


survival is insufficient

by lowqualtom



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Peter Parker, F/M, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Michelle Jones, Protective Peter Parker, Slow Burn, Survival, no zombies but also theres kind of zombies, not that Michelle needs protecting, strong bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-07-09 01:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowqualtom/pseuds/lowqualtom
Summary: Peter Parker and Michelle Jones have been surviving the aftermath of the Calamity by themselves. It's a lonely life but Michelle has come to accept it.When she runs into Peter she can't help but feel his happy go lucky self is a liability rather than an asset. He sticks with her anyway.





	1. drag me down

_ 8 Months Post-Calamity  _

Canada was just as beautiful as May had described it. Peter had never seen so many trees in one place and Central Park didn’t count because they didn’t even feel real. Everything in New York had felt fake but here, deep in Canada, Peter had never felt so grounded in his life. If he was honest, one of the only reasons he was here was because he wanted to see just how far the Calamity had reached. 

He didn’t know if it’d travelled around the whole world but he had no way of knowing so he tried not to think about it. However, from the limited amount (zero) aeroplanes he’d seen, he assumed that the rest of the world had been affected too. 

All by one lab in New York. 

He’d smashed in the window of a house on the outskirts of a small town he’d stumbled into, aptly named: Pickle Lake. It was the kind of town that would've looked abandoned before it really was abandoned. 

A sign with a personified pickle on it had welcomed him, exclaimed that he was ‘finally here!’ The sign had almost made him feel warm as if he was being talked to by an actual person, but that hadn’t happened for a very long time. Pickle Lake was apparently ‘a full-service community’ (according to the sign) and Peter really hoped they weren’t lying.

The houses were far and wide apart and the unpaved roads had been invaded by the ever-growing greenery. Plants were a nice reminder for Peter. In a world where time no longer seemed to exist, the growing of plants ensured him that time was indeed passing by. 

Climbing in through the shattered window, avoiding being cut by shards of glass still stuck around the frame, he landed with a thud onto the wooden floors, thick with a layer of dust. Eight months worth, he guessed. 

All he wanted was a bed to sleep in tonight, considering he’d spend the last few nights dangling from a web in random trees. The sun had begun to set and Peter was using the dying light to rummage through the abandoned cupboard, it smelt like shit and he scrunched his nose up as he shoved a loaf of bread, well, mould, to the side. 

Finally, he grabbed a tin of baked beans and carried it over to the stove, praying that the gas was still working as he turned the knob. He repeated a small ‘please’ to himself as he listened to the click of the ignition. Just as he was about to call it quits when the flame burst to life.

Rejoicing, he grabbed a pot from overhead, wiping the dust off with his filthy shirt before putting it on the stove and the tin on top. The pot was filled up from the water he needed to boil before it was drinkable, this way he could heat up the food quicker and drink water that wouldn’t kill him sooner. A spoon was given the same hasty treatment as the pot as he bent over the food, waiting for it to be warm enough so that he wouldn’t gag while eating them. 

The rest of the house was explored as he spooned beans and tomato sauce into his mouth, the water left to cool down. At first, looking at people’s family photos on the wall had felt like an invasion of their privacy but these people no longer existed outside these photos. Well, they might but Peter didn’t know what had happened to them, he assumed that everyone except him was either dead or infected. 

He knew that wasn’t true. Considering the number of houses he’d seen already raided or the groups of people he’d seen running around in the bigger cities. They always carried guns and laughed and screamed as if this was all some big  _ game _ to them. Maybe it was like they were living in a video game but this was real-life and Peter was all for having as much fun as was even possible now but really? 

That’s why small towns were safer, there were less of the infected and fewer survivors who were short of being wolves. 

Smashing windows made the place look like it had already been searched through, so that’s why he always did it. It made him feel just a tiny bit safer knowing that people wouldn’t come in as they’d assume there was nothing left for them. 

Not that that was likely in Pickle Lake. Peter was almost certain he was completely and utterly alone, just the same as he has been since the second he got into May’s car and left the city. The small red wagon was now stranded somewhere in Toronto, probably having been stripped for parts and left completely useless. 

This house had been lived in by an elderly couple, which would explain all the frilly lace everywhere they could’ve possibly put it. They didn’t have all that many photos, just a couple of them from their wedding day and the odd picture from more recent years. 

When he’d decided that he’d had enough of looking at photos, he pulled his bag off his back and started the job he did everywhere. He pulled all the cables out from the back of the TV, stripping them with a pocket knife and pulling the centre copper wire free, coiling it up and shoving it into a plastic bag full of the same kind of stuff. 

Next, he pulled the actual TV apart, taking all the circuit boards from it and putting it in the same bag. 

Peter didn’t know what he was making or when he’d be making it, he just knew that one day, they’d be useful for something. He already carried around a car battery that’d he’d managed to turn into some kind of portable charger for his phone, which had no use whatsoever anymore. 

Of course, he used it for other things too, like small, very small, lamps and heaters. 

Electricity went out just before the two-week mark, there was no one to keep it running anymore. Along that went the cell service, so the only thing his old, beat-up phone was good for now was music and games. 

He held a flashlight in his mouth as he worked, his far too long hair falling into his face. The sun was far below the horizon now, the only light coming from the moon and the stars, which he would’ve been lucky to see in New York. 

As a kid, he was obsessed with the stars and constellations. He would beg May and Ben to take him somewhere he could actually see the stars. Every couple of months Ben would drive them up to Ithaca, where Peter could lay in the middle of a random field and see the stars. 

Ben would lay next to him and let people ramble about them, listening intently and asking questions. 

If it weren’t for those trips, Peter would’ve never known his way up through the majority of the state after he left his apartment. 

The garage was always a good place to look through and this garage was stocked. There was tool after tool, piles of wood and scraps of metal. Again, Peter didn’t know what he was building, but he would get there one day. Hr left behind things that had no use to him anymore, a couple of books he’d finished reading, a battery-powered drill that had died, knick-knacks he’d find interesting and them soon come to terms with the fact they were pieces of junk. 

His day ended in a bed he beat the dust out of. The covers were decorated with mute toned flowers, it was all very 70’s. The smell of dust and grandma wasn’t his favourite but he could deal with it. 

Peter fell asleep willing his Spidey Sense to stay on. 

One of the benefits of the Calamity was that he didn’t have to go to school anymore. There was no more early morning wake-ups or living off coffee but Thank God coffee lasted forever. Even so, he found himself in this towns tiny school which he could tell educated people from age 5 to 18. He couldn’t imagine that this school would have a lot in the way of chemicals but that had what he needed. 

He stood in the deserted high school lab, bent over a beaker and mixing up more web fluid before he poured it into the half-empty bottles. Then, a feeling he really wasn’t expecting to have in this town trickled down his spine. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes shot up, there was no one else in the room but even so, he twisted the lid on the bottle and shoved it in his bag before leaving the room. 

Peter stayed alert, slipping out the doorway just in time to catch the barrel of a gun and point it towards the ceiling rather than his head. His eyes doubled in size as the shot rang out, pieces of plaster falling to the ground. 

His chest heaved and his eyes connected with a girl standing in front of him. Her eyes were wide with determination, her jaw clenched as curls tumbled into her face. The girl's knuckles were white as they gripped the gun, her breathing almost as sporadic as his. 

With a grunt, she ripped the gun from his grasp and tried to bring it down on his head. Peter dodged the pistol whip, grabbing her wrist and jumping backwards. 

“Dude!” Peter squeaked, jumping over her leg that was obviously trying to sweep his out from under him. “I don’t want to hurt you! I haven’t got anything on me!” 

She paused, pulling her wrist out of his grip again. “How do I know you aren’t infected?” 

Peter paused, taking note of her Queens accent. He stuttered, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “I- fuck- they don’t eat but this morning I ate a tin of peaches, if you want me to throw up to prove it to you, I will. How do I know you’re not infected?” 

She lowered the gun, shifting on her feet. “Because I would’ve killed you by now.” 

Peter shrugged, his fingers twitching as he kept them in the air, hesitantly he lowered them. She watched as he swiped them over his filthy jeans, one of them reaching into his pocket and fiddling with something in it. 

“What’s in the pocket?” She muttered, pointing the gun from his pocket to his face and back again. “Show me.” 

“It’s nothing-” 

“Show me,” She growled, the gun starting to tremble along with her hands. 

Peter fumbled to pull out the necklace, the wedding rings on the chain swaying back and forth in the air. The girl lowered the gun once again and Peter shoved it back in his pocket. He gulped, looking at her and watching the fear in her eyes dissipate into relief. 

He studied her face for a little while longer, his brows knit together as something built in the pit of his stomach. She looked at him, quirking a brow before giving a questioning shrug. “You wanna take a picture or something? I know the wank bank is low since you can’t go to PornHub.com anymore.” 

Peter blushed, stuttering and shaking his head. “No, you just- you look familiar.” 

“Yeah, Parker, I’d hope so considering we were in the same grade at the same school.” 

“Oh shit,” He muttered. “Michelle? I’m so sorry, I didn’t even-” 

“Yeah, I’m so cut your tiny brain couldn’t remember me. What are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged. “Surviving, looking for useful stuff.” 

“There’s nothing in this town, that’s why I’ve been camping out here. As far as I’m aware, I’m the only person who’s been here since it was abandoned and well, now you’re here.” 

He nodded, tugging at the straps on his bag, his eyes darting around the empty hallways. Michelle watched him, the gun still firmly in her grasp. She looked to the side of his bag, where a bat was dangling from the side. 

“Is that-” 

“The bat from Stranger Things? Yes it is, I don’t have a gun and you have to admit, it’s not a bad weapon.” 

“It’s kinda badass,” She shrugged. “Well, see ya.” 

Michelle turned on her heel, heading towards the exit of the school. Peter stood still, confused and left sputtering. He furrowed his brows before chasing after her, his beat-up sneakers squeaking on the tiles. 

“Hang on, shouldn’t we like- stick together?” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, we can share supplies, safety in numbers type thing. I look out for you, you look out for me.” 

“I can look after myself and I don’t need anyone to drag me down.” 

“Drag you down- where are you going? There’s  _ nowhere _ to go.” Peter retorted, scoffing. 

Michelle stopped, turning to look at him. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she hissed. “When I was going through Thunder Bay, I heard people talking, apparently there’s a dock in Vancouver that’s working. They’re coming from Japan to Vancouver and picking people up, they say they have an antidote to all this shit. I don’t need you dragging me down.” 

“I can help!” Peter replied, his mind reeling with the new information. “Besides, you just said you’d been camping out here, that doesn’t seem like you’re in a rush to me.” 

The gun found a place back in her belt, their eye contact never breaking. She rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, gripping the straps of her own backpack. “I got tired of hiding from lunatics. I just wanted enough peace to be able to read a damn book for once. So I stayed here, finished my book and now I’m looking for some new ones in this shitty school.” 

“Houses usually have good books-” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up again. He looked behind Michelle, picking up on the faint sound of footsteps, multiple footsteps. “There are people here.” 

“Funny joke,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “There would be literally no one here.” 

“I can hear them, Michelle,” He hissed, pushing her behind him and pulling out his bat. 

“Hear them? What are you-” 

She was cut off by the sound of a door swinging open and glass shattering, probably from the impact of the door hitting the wall. Michelle’s gun was immediately back in her hands and the safety off, her body now positioned beside Peter rather than behind. 

Peter started backing up slowly, willing his converse not to squeak on the tiles like they always did. Michelle was following his lead, backing up slowly, her boots far more practical than his. Everything about her was more practical, the tramping boots, the raincoat on top of her jumper, her braided hair. 

Peter looked like he’d just finished a day of normal school. 

Wicked laughter echoed around the hall and Peter cursed under his breath. He’d come across far too many groups of the same kind of people, each thinking they were oh so original when they’re about ten in every city doing the exact same thing. 

They were always the same kind of people too, would-be high school jocks with Daddy Issues who wore leather jackets because they wanted to intimidate people. 

They would raid every building other than homes, deeming them as more valuable for whatever reason. The group would take everything they wanted, break what they didn’t, and taunt anyone who was in the way, even if they didn’t mean to be. 

Peter didn’t get it he really didn’t. What was the point? Going from town to town and doing stupid shit for no reason. It didn’t get them anywhere or benefit them in any way, things were fucked up enough as is. People were scared enough without cynical teenagers looming over their towns. 

Low and behold, Peter’s shoe squeaked on the floor. He paused, cursing under his breath and Michelle burying him 600 feet under. There was silence, something Peter had heard a lot of in the past months but this time it was terrifying silence. 

There were muffled voices, Peter could make out what they were saying if he wanted to but he didn’t want to. Then the slapping sound of running. 

Michelle took off before him, skidding around the corner, reminding him of a shot from The Breakfast Club. Peter followed her, easily catching up and passing her. She took a left, so Peter did too, even if that meant he had to backtrack a bit. 

“Quit following me!” Michelle growled from behind him, taking a deep breath before pushing herself to run up beside him. Peter slowed his running to accommodate her, 

“I thought we were sticking together-” 

“I said no,” Her teeth were gritted as she passed him, the sound of footsteps behind them getting louder. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to get out of here before I’m killed by an ex-football team.” 

“There’s only five of them,” Peter huffed, catching up with her again. 

“How do you- whatever, we’re still outnumbered,” Her breathing was picking up, her shoulders heavy with each puff. 

Peter grabbed her and pulled her around another corner and against the wall. He pushed them both up flat against it, his head peering around the corner. Michelle was trying to push herself away but thanks to super strength, his extended arm was holding her back. She was hissing at him and Peter pressed a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. 

“Do you trust me?” He whispered. 

“No,” She mumbled back angrily. 

Peter ignored her, listening as the footsteps that had slowed to a walk came down the hall adjacent to them. Michelle went still and Peter let his arm fall. He waited until they were just about to walk past their hide-away-hall before he leapt out, webbing all five of them to the ceiling in a matter of seconds. 

There were three boys and two girls, all of them shouting confused profanities at Peter as they tried to wiggle their way out of the webbing. Peter couldn’t help but smirk, knowing they’d be there for more than a few hours and there was nothing they could do about it. 

Michelle came out of the hallway gaping, steam billowing out of her ears. “What the fuck?!” 

“My thoughts exactly,” One of the guys retaliated, still thrashing around in the webbing. 

“Stop trying,” Peter rolled his eyes. “This stuff doesn’t dissolve for hours, like, hours.” 

“You’re Spider-Man?” A girl at the back squealed, glaring at him. 

“Unimportant, anyway, gotta go, see ya.” 

“Wait,” Michelle stopped him from leaving. “They might have something useful.” 

“No I don’t wanna take anything from them, they’re trying to survive just the same as we are,” Peter replied, his eyes flickering between all of the kids dangling from the ceiling. 

“So? They would’ve killed us!”

“Still going to,” One of them grumbled. 

Peter gave them a small smile. “I’d like to see you try.” He turned back to Michelle. “Besides, I thought you said we weren’t sticking together?” 

“We aren’t-” 

“Look,” The other girl piped up. “Can you two have a lovers quarrel at another time? Either steal our shit or don’t, hurry up.” 

Peter looked between them and Michelle before shaking his head and turning to leave. She sighed, stalling before following him, putting the safety on her gun back on. He pushed open the back door of the school and almost jumped with excitement at the site of a school bus. 

“This town is tiny why the fuck do they need a school bus? Whatever, get in,” He walked over, kicking the door open and getting in the driver's seat. 

Michelle stayed outside of it, looking up at him with a flabbergasted expression. He looked at her with furrowed brows, pulling the plastic away and exposing the wiring of the bus. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting out of here, now get in.” 

“The petrol-” 

“The  _ diesel _ in this bus should still be fine for at least another three months so I’m making the most of transportation while we can. Plus, buses have massive tanks that can go up to 600 miles when full and judging by the size of this place, it hasn’t travelled far so it could at least get us into whatever the state next to this one is,” Peter rambled an explanation to MJ as he tugged at the wires, attempting to hotwire the bus. 

“Manitoba,” She scowled. 

“Manitoba, whatever, now get in and get me something from my bag.” 

With a sigh, she climbed into the bus and unzipped his bag, her nose scrunching up at the contents. She reached in and pulled out a golden cat. “Why the fuck do you have a Maneki-Neko in your bag?” 

Peter furrowed his brows and looked over at her before glancing at whatever she held in her hand. “Oh! The lucky cat. Well, I saw it in a house I crashed in a couple weeks ago and it was cool and I’ve always wanted one, so, I grabbed it. Can you pass me some copper wire, it’s in the Target plastic bag.” 

Michelle sighed again, putting the waving cat on the dashboard of the bus before diving back in and pulling out the bag. She opened it up to grab the massive wad of copper wire he’d collected over the months but not before inspecting the other items in the bag. 

“So, you just strip every electronic you come across?” 

“Pretty much,” Peter replied, grabbing the wire from her. 

“For?” 

“Electricity.” 

“Oh, you mean the thing that went out eight months ago?” 

“Hey! You never know! Maybe I’ll figure out how to make my own kind of electricity and get wifi again, you don’t know.” 

“Whatever,” Michelle grumbled, watching as his fingers twisted the wires together before the bus finally roared to life. 

“My copper wire just saved our asses.” Peter smiled, looking at her before pointing at the gas level. “What did I tell you! Over three-quarters of a tank left.” 

She rolled her eyes, standing up and moving to a seat a couple of rows behind before pulling out a book. She squealed as the bus started and stopped with a jerky motion, Peter apologising and explaining he’d never really driven a bus before but what better time is there to learn. 

This was about to be one hell of a bus ride and not the fun kind with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. 


	2. uptight

“Michelle, you wouldn’t happen to know the date today?” 

“9/11.” 

“Bush totally did that,” Peter mumbled and Michelle smirked. “Also I guess that means I’m definitely 18 now, I kind of guessed that a while ago but I wasn’t sure.” 

“You didn’t think to get a calendar?” 

“Nope and by the time I thought about it, I couldn’t be bothered to figure out the date.” 

The bus jerked again with a stop, but this time it was on purpose. He leapt up out of the seat. Michelle peered over her book to see that they were outside one of the two gas stations in Pickle Lake. 

“You want anything?” Peter asked. 

“Get water, a map and anything still edible, maybe candy considering it’s my birthday too.” 

Peter paused, quirking a brow. “You were born on 9/11?” 

“And what about it?” She narrowed her eyes at his stupidly dorky grin. 

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just a bit ironic considering your whole- mojo you got going on. Anyway, we should celebrate.” 

“Fuck off, Parker,” She muttered looking back at her book and whispering to herself. “Who says mojo?” 

“I do!” Peter called, jumping off the last step of the bus and jogging into the gas station. “You coming?” 

Michelle slammed her book shut before following him into the gas station. The place smelt of petrol, rotting food and rats. She supposed she should be used to less than appealing smells by now but she clearly wasn’t. Peter seemed to be unaffected. 

She grabbed a basket from the front of the store and bypassed all the fruit cartons that had turned to sludge. Peter copied her, taking the opposite side of the gas station that was more like a mini supermarket. 

Peter swiped can after can into his basket, not even checking the labels so Michelle knew she’d be throwing cat food out the window of a moving bus soon. 

She picked up various different maps of Canada, ones that covered larger areas to more specific areas. Next came the packets of batteries for her flashlight, she also grabbed another flashlight. An array of lighters was thrown in along with other fire starting equipment stocked next to them. 

Michelle stopped in front of the snacks, taking a moment to think about what she wanted before shrugging and tipping packets of skittles and bars of chocolate into the basket. She threw the packets of nuts and beef jerky in too, just to be safe. The packets of chips ahoy said they weren’t expired for another two weeks, so she grabbed those too. 

“Michelle,” Peter’s entirely too cheery voice beckoned her. She looked at him but didn’t say anything. A smile broke out on his face and he held up a bottle cheap-looking red wine. “How about those birthday celebrations, huh?” 

“No,” She deadpanned. “Absolutely not.” 

“Oh, C’mon, it’s our birthday,” Peter pouted, moving around to her side of the gas station to stand next to her. 

“ _ My _ birthday.” 

“It’s our birthday and we should celebrate because we could die tomorrow so what else do we have to lose?” Peter’s voice lowered to a whisper and she gave him a blank stare as she grabbed a pair of scissors. 

“Exactly, we could die and I would at least like to be sober so that whatever we’re facing, we have a shot at living.” She glanced down into his basket, spying an assortment of magazines, the difference between the Engineering magazine to the PlayBoy was astonishing, really. Michelle frowned, pointing at the magazines, jumper cables and the damn beanie babies. “We do not need those.” 

“Hey, you don’t need them, I do. As you said, there’s no PornHub.com anymore, I have to go the old fashioned route,” Peter retorted, dropping the bottle of wine into his basket before rounding the store and grabbing another one. “Hey, they’ve got some CD’s, Justin Bieber or Justin Bieber?” 

“Hm,” She mused. “Justin Bieber sounds alright.” 

Peter smiled, wider than he had the whole day for the first time he’d ever heard Michelle joke. He dumped the CD’s into the basket before making a final round of the store. “I think we’ve got everything.” 

Michelle glanced up and down her aisle, snatching multiple packets of sanitary products. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

The odd pair walked back to the bus, Peter letting Michelle get on first and set her basket on one of the seats. Peter followed, putting his down next to hers and immediately taking the three beanie babies out of the basket and placing them next to the cat on the dashboard. 

Michelle scowled again, shaking her head before grabbing a bottle of water Peter had grabbed and opened it, sculling half of it at once. Peter hoped back in the driver's seat and pat the spot next to him, presumably an offer for Michelle. 

She stared at him. Peter got the message and started driving. 

Michelle went to the baskets and split everything in half, leaving the things they’d explicitly grabbed for themselves to the right person. She grabbed her own bag, shoving everything of hers inside but taking out a bag of skittles for now. 

There were tins of cat food in the mix, she threw those out the window. 

Eventually, she sat back down in the seat with her book and a bag of skittles. She couldn’t lie, it was nice to have some kind of company. For someone who was a self-proclaimed loner, she’d felt rather lonely these past months. 

It was also weird to be back in a moving vehicle. She’d thought that gas went off a lot quicker than what Peter told her it did, so she’d never even tried to use a car. Either way, she didn’t know how to hotwire a car. 

She could remember Peter, sitting at the back of the classrooms next to Harry Osborn in those tacky science shirts. He was quietly charismatic, only really talking to a specific amount of people but clearly feeling incredibly comfortable in their presence. 

He was smart, everyone knew that. It seemed that at least once a week there would be a girl in the bathroom talking about how Peter Parker was  _ actually _ kinda cute, not to mention how smart he was. Peter was oh so nice and was always around to answer the girl's stupid questions they’d know the answer to if they just listened to their teacher. 

As far as she knew, he never had a girlfriend. There were a couple of times where she thought he might’ve been dating Gwen Stacy, considering how much time they spent with each other in their junior year. 

Peter and Harry had made an unpredictable pair. Never in a million years would anyone have put the quiet, nerdy, kid with the outspoken, loaded, Harry Osborn. Yet somehow, they made it work. 

Michelle wondered if Peter knew what happened to Harry, she wondered if he missed him. 

“If Japan apparently has a cure, why haven’t they fixed all this yet,” Peter asked, his voice quiet and barely audible over the low rumbling of the bus. 

“I don’t know, I guess they have to like- inject it or something.” 

“Wouldn’t they have found a way to make it airborne? The same way this shit spread, you know?” 

“I don’t know,” Michelle grumbled. “Why don’t you ask them?” 

“Don’t speak Japanese,” He sighed. 

Michelle held back a laugh and focused back on her book, glancing out the window to see nothing but rows upon rows of trees and an incredibly long stretch of road in front of them. She got up, pulling out one of the maps to see exactly where they were going. 

“Holy shit,” She muttered. “This highway just goes on forever and there is literally nothing else for-for miles.” 

“Well, good thing we aren’t walking,” Peter mused, leaning his head back on the seat. “What do you think the Kardashians are doing right now?” 

“If they’re alive, which is debatable,” Michelle shrugged. “I’m sure they’re fine in their ivory tower.” 

Peter hummed, tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. “Isn’t it weird how all of sudden citizenship and crossing borders don’t matter anymore? Nothing matters anymore, the only reason I’ve still got my ID on me is from force of habit.” 

“It’s almost as if they were never meant to be put in place to begin with,” Michelle quirked a brow, pulling at a loose thread on one of the seats. “At some point, everyone's gonna settle down again. They’re gonna reform towns and villages and it’ll all begin again. Who knows, they’ve probably begun.” 

“Not with all The Infected around,” Peter replied. “But yeah, at some point they will. Maybe it’ll end up like that movie, Warm Bodies and people will just build giant walls.” 

“Not like it hasn’t been done before.” 

Peter let out a chuckle, focusing back on the road and Michelle back on her book. 

Hours passed, Michelle finished reading and entertained herself by staring out the window. Peter occasionally muttered to himself, sometimes movie scripts, sometimes random thoughts, sometimes lyrics. She could’ve sworn he recited the declaration of independence. 

He never shut up. 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon line when Peter swerved off the road. Michelle dripped the seat in front of her, her eyes wide. They were still on a road, just an unpaved and overgrown one. 

She noticed the shit-eating grin on Peter’s face as they made eye contact through the rearview mirror. Glaring, she knew there was nothing she could do about the situation they were in. 

The bus was put into park before he ripped the wires that kept the engine going apart. He looked back at her before gesturing out the front window. Michelle followed his arms and looked out at the lake they were sat in front of, the sun reflecting off the water and shining into the bus. 

“Happy Birthday,” Peter chirped, getting out of the driver's seat and grabbing the two wine bottles and her wrist. 

Michelle shot daggers at him, ripping her wrist away from him but still following him to the front seats of the bus. She sat next to him, bringing one knee to her chest as she looked out the window. 

He uncorked the two bottles and handed one to her, pulling out a packet of Oreos and opening it up. He placed it between them before grabbing one, taking a bite and washing it down with a sip of the wine. “Yep, these are stale and wine is still foul.” 

She raised a brow and took an Oreo herself, nodding when she took a bite and noted the mushiness of it. “Are we going to make an actual dinner? I have lighters and we’re surrounded by wood to make a fire.” 

“Yeah, what do you want? Think there’s fish in this lake?” Peter shrugged, peering over the dashboard. He grabbed his pocket knife and some duct tape that Michelle had grabbed from the gas station.

Michelle got out of the bus and picked up a sturdy looking stick which Peter took from her and began taping the knife to. She walked over to the edge of the lake and peered in, the murky water only letting her see a foot or so below the surface. 

Peter walked up next to her, kicking his shoes and socks off before rolling up his jeans and stepping into the water. He stretched his back out, turning to look at Michelle who was waiting with an expectant look. 

He cleared his throat, rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie and took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. Michelle furrowed her brows as he did nothing for a few seconds, his body completely still. Just as she was about to call out his bluff, his whole body lurched forward at a speed faster than humanly possible. 

She squeaked, listening as the spear sliced through the water before it stood rigid. Peter smiled, pumping his fist in celebration as he pulled it out of the water, a dead, decently sized trout on the end of it. Michelle gaped at him, admittedly impressed by how little time and effort it took him. 

“Fire?” 

Michelle rushed to gather up dry wood, arranging it all into a pile before grabbing a lighter and getting the fire started. She briefly realised that it was beginning to get colder, that the night’s felt as if she needed more than her one thing blanket to keep her warm. That meant that things were going to be wet, that fire was going to be harder to start. 

The thought worried her but she pushed it to the back of her head, that was for another time. 

She only looked up when the fire was burning steadily. Peter sat cross-legged on the ground, filleting the fish on the piece of plastic he’d ripped off the back of one of the chairs. He was doing it clumsily, obviously not well versed in the preparation of fish. She grabbed a couple of smaller sticks, whittling the ends of them with her own pocket knife into slight spikes. 

Peter paused, his eyes flitting around but not focusing on anything in particular. Michelle bit the inside of her cheek, knowing he was about to break the comfortable silence with yet another groundbreaking idea. 

“Hold this,” He said, holding out two pieces of fish to her. Michelle looked up at him with a scrunched up nose, he looked back expectantly, waving the pieces in her face. Pursing her lips, she gingerly grabbed the meat from him. 

Peter grabbed the makeshift chopping board and swiped all the guts and bones leftover into the lake. She opened her mouth to protest but sighed, deciding against it. Hastily, he washed the plastic and his slimy hands before dipping back into the bus and coming back out with one of the bottles of red wine. 

Flipping the plastic over, the curved edges of the chair back formed a bowl. Peter grabbed the fish from Michelle and plopped them back in before dowsing them in red wine. 

“I really didn’t need to hold those,” Michelle deadpanned, walking over to the lake and rinsing her hands off. 

“Nah, it was just funny,” Peter snickered, poking the raw fish. She growled, flicking the water off her hands into his face. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, laughter evident in his voice. “I just filleted this damn fish and it was gross, I think you can hold it for two seconds.” 

“It’s my birthday,” She replied, giving him a smirk as she sat in front of the fire. Peter shook his head, shaking the bowl back and forth for no apparent reason. “Also, unless you marinate that for at least half an hour, it's not going to do anything and I really don’t want to wait for food just so you can think you’re a chef.” 

“When you live with my-” Peter stopped himself, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’ve cooked for myself for years, so lucky for you, I’m already a chef.” 

Michelle hummed, not continuing the conversation. For her sake or his, she didn’t know. Peter stayed quiet for the next few minutes, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the low sun. Eventually, she could tell he got bored because he pulled the fish out of the wine he’d insisted on marinating it in. 

He stuck the meat onto the sticks Michelle had placed next to him before moving over to sit next to her, handing her one of the skewers. She gave him a tightlipped smile and took it, holding it over the fire. Peter did the same, hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping his free arm around his legs. 

Michelle found herself holding both pieces of fish once again, in a much cleaner way than the first time, as Peter went and washed his hands in the river. He wiped them against his jeans before grabbing the two bottles of wine, setting the less full one next to Michelle. 

She grit her teeth and handed his fish back to him. He flipped his hood up after a bit of slight breeze ruffled his hair. Michelle gazed pointedly at the bottle of wine, biting her tongue. She watched as he took a sip from his bottle, his face scrunching up in distaste. He looked over at her, giving a questioning look. 

“No,” She shook her head. “We can’t afford to be even so much as tipsy anymore.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to us, I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that,” She scoffed. “Someone could be right around the corner.” 

“If they were, I would hear them ten minutes before they got here, even if they were running,” Peter replied, taking another sip. “I’m not saying you have to get wasted but- even the act of drinking relaxes you a bit. Plus, it helps you sleep.” 

“I’m just saying that we don’t have the security of a home anymore. Anything could happen at any point and I don’t they’d give a fuck what state we’re in at any time of the day.” 

He sighed, bringing his fish towards him and pulling at it with his fingers. Not happy with it just yet, he held it back over the crackling fire. “I promise you that no matter how drunk I am, I can take down anything with my eyes closed, literally.” 

“Yeah, ok, Spider-Man, sweet set of morals you got going for you there,” Michelle narrowed her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tongue in copious amounts. 

“Spider-Man doesn’t exist anymore,” He grumbled, swirling the wine. 

“As a physical being, no he doesn’t exist but that doesn’t matter. Does the little old lady you helped cross the street know you were drunk at the time?” Michelle fired, quirking her head to the side. 

“I’m not a damn alcoholic,” Peter replied angrily. “I’m just saying you should loosen up a damn bit. We could literally die tomorrow so why waste today by being hung up on every little thing.” 

“It’s not a waste if it means I live to see more than just tomorrow.” 

Peter sighed, putting the bottle down and checking the fish again. He pulled it off the stick, so Michelle did the same, beginning to pick pieces off and nibble on them. There the occasional bone, which she made sure to look out for and pull out carefully. 

It wouldn’t be a good look if she choked on her food just after giving a lecture about safety. 

The boy next to her seemed to vacuum his food up in a matter of seconds, resigning to the bottle of wine once he was finished. She watched him curiously, offering the remaining bit of the piece of her fish. He looked at her and shook his head, tapping his empty stick on the ground. 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his hand and slapping the fish into his palm. He laughed slightly, muttering a thanks before finishing it off. 

“That’s the first freshly cooked meal I’ve had since- since everything,” Peter broke the silence between them, breathing heavily. 

“Same,” Michelle breathed. “I tried to hunt but I was terrible at it.” 

“I just always had enough canned stuff to eat. Although, I’ve thrown up enough cold baked beans to last me ten lifetimes.” 

“Gross,” Michelle groaned, scrunching up her nose. 

She looked down at the bottle of wine, giving in to temptation and taking a swig from it. Peter watched with a dopey smile and only then did she notice his drooping eyes. His curls were spilling out of the hood and framing his face, the ends fluttering against his skin gently.

He took one final elongated sip before putting the bottle down and pulling his sleeves over his hands and curling further into the hoodie. His cheek rested on his knee as he tilted his head in Michelle’s direction. “Were we in the same English class?”

“We were in the same everything class,” She replied, glaring at him. 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and hissed as he inhaled. “That’s awkward.” 

“It’s fine, I mean considering my aim was to get through high school completely unnoticed, I’d say it was a success,” Michelle shrugged. “I never lose.” 

“Never?” Peter asked, smiling. Michelle nodded and Peter gasped loudly, “That sounds like a challenge to me.” 

“Feel free to accept it.”

“Well, I was thinking of an arm wrestle but it’s not actually much of a challenge, is it? Because I have super strength so I might just break your arm instead,” Peter hummed, pursing his lips. 

“Please don’t break my arm.” 

“I won’t but I’ll think of something one day.” 

“Sure you will, Parker.” 

Time passed in a blur of crackling flames and reluctant laughter from Michelle. Peter wasn’t wasted, he was just on the verge of drunk and Michelle had at least had enough for his shoulders to not look like there was a bar stuck between them. 

The small fire had died down into baby flames and blackened wood with a dusting of ash. If Peter didn’t know any better he could’ve mistaken it for a brownie, Michelle would never let that happen though. 

Michelle stood up, stomping out the rest of the fire and offering him a hand. He grunted as she pulled him up, having to lean back to stop herself from toppling over. Peter dragged his feet on the ground and leaned his body into hers as they walked back to the bus. He had assured her the bus would be ok to sleep in unless she wanted him to make hammocks in the trees out of webbing. 

He climbed up the steps, stumbling over them slightly but laughing it odd. Michelle walked behind him and while he walked to the back of the bus and lay down on the seat, she fished a blanket out of her bag. 

She sat down on the floor of the bus in front of the seat he lay on, leaning her head on the wall. Her thin blanket was draped over her and she curled into it in an attempt to get any warmth at all. 

The nights were getting colder, a lot colder. All the travel guides she’d read about Canada told her that at this time of year, the days would be a nice warm while the nights would be cold, almost freezing. Hence, she’d grabbed layer upon layer of thermals and jumpers and secured them all down with a puffer jacket. The camping shop she’d stumbled across a couple of months ago had been very helpful. 

The snow was supposed to start sometime next month and that’s what she was worried about the most. In an ideal world, where everything was normal, she’d be in her apartment in front of the electrical fireplace with a book. 

But that reality shattered eight months ago. 

Here she hoped that she might be able to hide out in a house for the worst of the snow if she wasn’t on a boat to Japan by then. Now that Peter was here, she had no idea what was going to happen. She hated to admit it but he was useful. He was smart, well, smart where it counted. 

She still held all sorts of doubts about him and if she was actually going to stay with him or not. He made her feel safer, she couldn’t lie about that. She didn’t need protection but she did need back up. Without him, she might have been killed by the group in the school and she would’ve found herself walking over 400 miles rather than driving. 

“Michelle,” Peter whispered quietly, she could hear his teeth chattering as he spoke. 

“Yes, Parker?” 

“Happy birthday,” His voice trailed out into the sound of him shifting around on the seat. 

“Peter?” She sighed and opened up the blanket. “Come here.” 

She turned to look at him as he sat up and looked at her with furrowed brows. Michelle looked at him expectantly and he rolled off the seat. There was a thump of a falling body, a laugh and a suppressed sigh before he finally moved over to sit next to her. 

The blanket was draped over the both of them and Peter was sitting up straight, trying not to lean onto her. Michelle watched as he shifted around and sighed. “Do you want to switch?” 

“Yes, I mean, if it’s okay with you,” Peter replied, looking at her. 

Michelle stood up and moved to the other side, letting Peter shuffle until he was the one leaning on the wall. She sat down again and got under the blanket, pressing into his side and not being scared to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Should we move to a seat-” 

“Peter.” 

“You’re right, goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

“Night, Parker.” 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” 

A small giggle. 

“Peter.” 

“Sorry, sorry, goodnight.” 

“Hope you’re okay to drive tomorrow.” 

“Oh my god, Michelle, quit talking I’m trying to sleep.” 

“I hope you choke on your own vomit while you sleep.” 

“Love you too.” 


	3. more than this

Michelle woke up before Peter in the morning, which surprised her as she assumed him to be the ‘wake with the sun’ type of person. She found her head buried into his chest and his arm around her shoulders. 

The sun was high in the sky but she could already feel the biting frost of the morning. She breathed in slowly, scrunching her nose up at the smell of the musty bus and slight body odour from both her and Peter. 

Pulling herself out of his grasp, she stood up and walked to the front of the bus, stretching her arms above her head. She took off her jackets, leaving herself in a long-sleeved thermal, liking the feeling of the cold air. 

Kicking her shoes off, she stripped herself of her jeans too, walking into the lake. The water was cold, almost freezing, but it was refreshing. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She peered into the bus and when she couldn’t see Peter awake and standing, she pulled her shirt and sports bra off, venturing further into the lake. 

With the water just below her collarbones, she took her hair out of its braid, letting the curls fall down her back. She ducked under the surface, taking a deep breath and pushing her hair out of her face when she broke the surface. 

The chill of the water made her feel very awake as she washed her face with it. She scrubbed at herself, getting off the dirt and grime that had built up over the past week of not having a chance to bathe. 

She was scrubbing at her scalp when Peter fell out of the bus, literally. He managed not to eat the ground but he sure was close. She turned around to face him and Peter turned red, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry- I’ll just-” He gestured back towards the bus and took a couple of steps backwards, letting out a small ‘oof’ when he hit the edge of the door. 

“Peter, it’s fine. You can’t even see me and I wouldn’t care if you could. Now, you should get in here too because you look and smell like you haven’t washed yourself longer than I hadn’t.” 

He peeked through a gap between two of his fingers and bit his lip. “Are you sure?” 

Michelle rolled her eyes and nodded, turning her back to him once again. 

She listened to his belt unbuckle and the zipper before the jeans fell to his ankles. There was some more rustling as he took the rest of his clothes off. She stayed turned around, not sure if he cared what she did or didn’t see. It was better to be safe than sorry. 

Peter squeaked when he first stepped into the water and Michelle laughed slightly. He forced himself to go deeper, letting out sharp breathes as a reaction to the temperature. 

When she sloshing of the water had calmed and she felt that it was safe, she turned around to face him. The water had just gone past his belly button and Michelle couldn’t help but look at his physique. 

He’d clearly lost weight post Calamity but who hadn’t? Michelle had lost a fair bit and she didn’t exactly have much to spare in the first place. His torso was still toned, lean muscles tensed in the cold water. 

Peter gave her a tight smile and looked across the expansive lake. Eventually, he came up next to her, the water reaching his neck due to the fact he was shorter than Michelle. His body relaxed as it got used to the water and being so exposed in Michelle’s presence, his hands coming up to rake through his hair. 

He took a deep breath before going under just as she had, his long hair plastered to his forehead when he came up. Peter laughed slightly and flicked it to the side, causing droplets to fly into Michelle’s face. She wiped them off and gave him a dirty look, to which he responded to with a sheepish grin. 

“You need to do more than just stand in the water to clean yourself, you know,” Michelle broke the comfortable silence, shifting her gaze from the horizon to him. 

“Right, right,” Peter suddenly snapped back into reality, the effects of the last night's wine finally beginning to wear off. 

He started awkwardly washing himself, scrubbing at his scalp even though it felt like it wasn’t doing anything at all. Michelle tried not to watch, giving him as much privacy as one could possibly have in this situation. 

Peter sighed a couple of minutes later, standing up straight and tilting his back with shut eyes. He wondered if she thought about the same things as him, if she thought about what she’d be doing right now if Oscorp had better practices. He thought about that a lot, about who he’d be spending his time with. Probably Harry if he was at school, he might have invited Gwen over if it was a weekend or maybe, he’d be lying on the couch with his head in May’s lap while watching I Love Lucy. 

Instead, he was standing in a freezing lake in the middle of Canada with a girl he went to school with but barely knew. That in itself was something of an anomaly and Peter almost regretted having never interacted with her while they had the chance for it to be normal. 

His jaw clenched and he tried to shake those thoughts from his head, forcing himself to focus on the present and what was in front of him. Sometimes the present was too tied into the past to ignore it. 

“Do you know what happened to- everyone you know?” Peter asked her, turning to look at her for a split second. 

“No,” She replied, licking her lips. “Do you?”

“Only what happened to my Aunt. Don’t know about anyone else, a couple of my friends texted me and told me to be safe but that was the last I heard from them.” 

“Harry and Gwen?” Michelle hummed, raising her brows at him. 

“Uh, yeah, how’d you know?” Peter furrowed his brows. 

“Kind of hard to miss Midtown’s hottest pair of best friends and Midtown’s most talked about couple,” She joked. 

“Gwen and I weren’t together,” Peter shook his head, a warm blush creeping up his neck and ears. 

Michelle nodded, obviously not believing him. “Yeah sure, you may not have had the guts to ask her officially but you were together.” 

“I mean,” He shrugged, looking into the water. “I-I guess, we did spend a lot of time together.” 

“I’m sorry,” Michelle said quietly, “She was really nice the one time we were partners in Drama, really smart too.” 

“Yeah,” Peter smiled slightly. “She was really smart, like, really smart, proved me wrong a hundred times a day.” 

“That’s not hard to do,” Michelle said sarcastically, smiling at Peter. 

Peter scoffed, splashing the lake water at her. Michelle glared, splashing back and causing him to scrunch up his face. Peter laughed, wiping the water off his face and running a hand through his hair. A small smile found its way etched onto both their features and Michelle finally decided she’d had enough of the water. 

Peter watched as she got out, her back facing him. She didn’t even seem to flinch when she’d fully emerged from the water, aware of the fact that Peter was watching. She squeezed the excess water from her hair and grabbed her clothes, heading into the bus. 

He waited until she was turned around in the bus and preoccupied with getting changed before getting out of the lake, tugging his boxers on hastily. He felt lucky that he didn’t have long hair like Michelle’s that was probably impossible to dry and got everything wet. May used to always complain about her hair just after she showered. 

The sun was now fairly high in the sky, the bite of the morning fading into nothing but warmth. He let himself bask in it for a moment, the heat feeling nice on his skin. 

It reminded him of summers swinging through New York in his suit, that he still has buried in the depths of his bag for no reason other than nostalgia. He hasn’t touched in months and he doubted he was ever going to touch it again. 

Once his skin was dry enough, he pulled the rest of his clothes on, leaving his hoodie off for the time being. Walking into the bus wasn’t as difficult this time around thanks to being sober. 

Michelle was rifling through her bag, fully dressed once again. She pulled out two tins of peaches and a can opener, opening them both and handing one to Peter. He gave her a smile and sat down on one of the chairs, Michelle sat across the aisle from him. 

“That’s smart,” He nodded towards the can opener. 

“The can opener?” She furrowed her brows. “How have you been opening cans?” 

“With my knife,” He shrugged, laughing at her confounded expression. 

She rolled her eyes, dipping her fingers into the can and eating the fruit. Peter did the same, finishing the whole can a lot faster than Michelle. Before she even finished, Peter had already started up the bus and was back on the road. 

The sun was hot through the glass and speckled through the filthy windows. Peter opened a couple, letting the breeze in as he sped down the highway, once again being welcomed by the never-ending trees on either side. 

For a few hours, it seemed that’s all there was to Canada now. He knew that wasn’t true because when he’d crossed the border it was like he was still in America, just a greener one. The trees and the lakes were never-ending, only pausing to have small service stations randomly dotted throughout the highway. 

Eventually, the suburbs returned again, streets began to form and houses started to have neighbours. Peter could imagine all the white families that lived there with their two children and a Golden Retriever named Max. 

Michelle looked up from her book for the first time in hours and almost gasped at the change in scenery. She walked up to stand next to Peter, her hand holding onto the back of his chair. He smiled up at her, watching as her eyes flitted around the gentrified neighbourhood and the big city in the background. 

“Welcome to Winnipeg,” Peter said, his voice coated with excitement. 

She smiled, telling him to pull the bus over. Peter obliged, knowing that this was probably the best place to abandon the bus. He gathered up his stuff, making sure to grab his lucky cat and beanie babies specifically. 

Michelle got out of the bus first, adjusting the straps of her bag and waiting for Peter to get out too. He stood next to her and stretched his arms above his head, giving her a massive grin. She rolled her eyes but smiled back, beginning to walk down the street, Peter following like a lost puppy. 

Every house on the street had been ransacked and Peter was sure every house in the neighbourhood had suffered the same fate. He supposed that they would crash in a similar building for the night later on, for now, they would just walk. 

Pavement felt strange underfoot. Peter was so used to dirt and gravel roads or just swinging from trees that walking on a path felt like walking on the moon. It reminded him of the path he walked every day from the train to school and back again. He didn’t like being reminded of the life he used to lead. 

So he’d just ask about Michelle’s instead. 

“Why do you want to know?” Michelle had replied, her brows furrowed and body closed off. 

Peter shrugged. “Thought we should get to know each other better.” 

“Ok, well, why ask about my home life?” She muttered, scuffing her shoes on the ground. 

“Because I don’t want to think about mine.” 

“So what makes you think I want to think about mine, much less tell you about it?” 

“Ok, you don’t have to answer it, I was just-” Peter sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Michelle breathed, her eyes flickering between Peter and the ground. “I get it, I guess.” 

“You said that the- that the Japanese had a cure? Right?” Peter asked after a few minutes of silence. 

The girl next to him shrugged. “It’s just what I heard.” 

“Because well, Oscorp released the chemical as a cloud so why would they not do the same? The infected would be cured within days if not hours.” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t even know how Oscorp released their stupid chemical. If we weren’t in a literal apocalypse I’d be suing them,” Michelle scowled before furrowing her brows. “How did you know that anyway?” 

“Being best friends with the heir of Oscorp has- had its benefits,” Peter laughed breathlessly. “The drug wasn’t ready yet, I prayed it would never be ready, the idea of it was so fucked.” 

“What was it even for?” 

“The government asked them to make it for the military, to make the soldiers more compliant. It was literally supposed to be used for mind control,” Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s so messed up.” 

“Once again, the government proves they’re utter fuckwits,” She scowled. “And Osborn proves he’s a money-hungry, twisted bastard.”

“I have to reluctantly agree with you, even Harry hated his dad.” 

“I could tell,” She hummed. “How come we’re not infected and others aren’t too?”

“It alters your brain chemistry, one of the reasons it wasn’t ready was because it didn’t work on everyone, it also made people psychopaths with no emotions,” Peter frowned. “I-I think I have a cure. Harry sent me this photo, before everything happened, of this random formula but I haven’t been able to find the right stuff anywhere and it took me until I was crossing the border to realise what the hell the formula could even be.”

“Harry never explained it?” 

“The chemical was released from Oscorp, he lives there, I don’t think he had time,” Peter’s voice was solemn; quiet. Michelle gulped and moved closer to him. 

They walked in silence for the next hour or so. The silence wasn’t comfortable but there wasn’t anything to talk about. Michelle would much rather sit with her own continuous thoughts than have a fragmented conversation with Peter. 

The city had been surprisingly tranquil and it was putting Peter on edge. He knew he’d be able to tell if something was up before it was worth worrying about but there was just something about how comfortable he felt. It was too comfortable. 

Peter and Michelle had managed to reach the city centre now, skyscrapers on either side. He couldn’t help but picture New York. Coming through the city was a mistake, they should’ve taken side streets, who knows what kind of gangs would be lurking around the corner, bored and looking for trouble. 

Michelle could feel the anxiety radiating off Peter and it was making her nervous too. The new-found knowledge of his alter-ego made her feel safer but right now, it was scaring her. Peter, Spider-Man, being nervous was enough to make anyone shake in their boots. 

His head was starting to whip around violently, his hands clutching the straps of his bag tighter and Michelle was just about to ask what was wrong when he grabbed her waist and pulled them into the air.

She clung onto the body next to her, her head buried into the space between his neck and shoulder, too shocked to scream. Her feet finally came back into contact with the ground, or at least, a surface. 

Michelle wrenched herself out of his grip, staring at him with wide eyes before realising they were on the roof of a particularly tall building. She stumbled backwards, as far into the centre of the roof as possible. “Peter! What the fu-” 

Peter clapped his hand over her mouth, pressing a finger to his own and staring back with eyes just as wide. She hit his hand away, glaring at him with knitted brows. Peter didn’t seem phased as he ran back to the edge of the building, staring at something below. 

Michelle followed cautiously, peering over the edge to see a group of people similar to the ones they saw in the high school the other day. They seemed to be looking around for something or more specifically, them. 

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Peter whispered. “The fact we hadn’t been attacked or mugged, I mean.” 

“I was thinking the same thing,” Michelle sighed. “I’m sorry for-” 

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because Peter had turned around and moved faster than she deemed physically possible towards a group rushing towards them. 

Peter was fine, obviously experienced with fighting and his skills far outweighed those of their attackers. Michelle was worried about herself, as a few of the large group laid their eyes on her and her large bag. 

She glanced at Peter, who was looking at her with frantic eyes and he rushed to web the rest of them to the concrete. Michelle couldn’t let herself look like she was scared, she wouldn’t. Instead, her eyes landed on Peter’s bat which laid forgotten a couple of feet away. 

Michelle lunged for the weapon, swiping the honestly terrifying weapon into her grip. She held it as she remembered being taught in middle school, twisting the handle around. 

“You won’t do it,” One of them laughed, snorting at her while the other one nodded and agreed. 

“Oh yeah?” She raised her brows and swung the bat, the two of them flinching as it whisked past their heads. “I beg to differ.” 

The particularly tough-looking guy on the left gulped, his obviously infected nose piercing scrunching up as he backed away. Michelle swung it once more, causing the girl to duck while the guy ran away. 

Peter webbed him to the floor, having finished with the rest of the gang. His hair had flopped into his face, the strands bobbing with his heaving breath. He had just pointed his arm towards the remaining girl when she whipped a gun out of her jacket, pointing it at Michelle. 

Michelle immediately dropped the bat, raising both hands in the air, Peter did the same. 

Her hands shook, more than Michelle’s did when she first met Peter. The gun shifted between both Peter and Michelle as Peter slowly inched closer to Michelle. She kept the gun level with both their faces but used it to gesture towards Peter. 

“I know Spider-Man has to have something valuable on him so fork it over,” Her Canadian accent shook, presumably out of fear. 

“Listen, the best I’ve got is a Chinese Lucky Cat but I’m still a little reluctant-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” She hissed, jolting the gun. “What’s that hanging out of your pocket then?” 

Peter looked down, his face draining of all colour at the sight of a necklace chain hanging out of his pocket. He looked up at the girl with wide eyes, placing his hands on the back of his head. “No, please, I’ll give you anything else, it’s not going to get you anything anyway-” 

“You clearly don’t know how things run around her now, we trade valuables within groups to get what we need, that shitty necklace must be pretty fucking valuable from the way you look like you’re about to piss yourself.” 

Michelle looked at Peter’s gaunt face, frowning at the way his eyes were glazed over before gulping and looking at the girl. “Take my rings.” The gun was now pointed at her and Peter’s eyes were burning into the side of her skull. “You can have my rings, they’ve got crystals in them.” 

She twisted her hands around to show them off, as if to say: ‘See?’ 

“Hand them over then.” 

Michelle lowered her hands, keeping her eyes on the girl and began taking the rings off one by one. Peter waited until he was sure the girl was comfortable before shooting a web at her gun, taking it into his own grasp before webbing her wrists together. 

He grabbed the necklace from his pocket, the two rings weighing down the chain and slipped it over his neck. The cold metal made his skin pebble but he sighed in relief, pressing a hand over where the rings sat. 

The gun was shoved in the waistband of his pocket as he webbed the girl's feet to the floor. Michelle had finished shoving her rings back on hastily and picked up the bat again. 

The whole group of what she estimated to be ten, if not more, teenagers were cursing at both of them, specifically Peter. She supposed it was because they could put the Spider-Man name to Peter and nothing to Michelle but she could tell it stung to hear people be upset with him rather than thanking him for getting their cat out of a tree. 

“I’m sorry but I have to swing us out of the city,” Peter said to her, out of breath and quiet. 

She nodded. “That’s probably the best idea.” 

He grabbed her waist and she latched her arms around his neck, taking a deep breath. She could feel him turn to take one last look at her before he jumped off the building and she immediately squeezed onto him tighter. 

Her legs found themselves wrapped around his waist, trying her best not to knock anything or let something fall. They needed every last thing they were carrying and they needed more than that too. His arm tightened its grip on her hips and she relaxed a little more, feeling secure being so close to him. 

She closed her eyes and what felt like no more than ten minutes later, Peter landed on the ground. Her body refused to let go of him and his other arm came to wrap around her waist. “You ok?” 

His voice snapped her out of the trance that she seemed to be in and she let herself fall out of his hold. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m good, great actually.” 

He smiled crookedly at her as she swiped the loose strands of hair out of her face. His arms fell back to his sides and he nodded to the side before beginning to walk. Michelle followed suit, pretending her legs didn’t feel like jelly. 

“I got us out of the city but uh, there’s not really anything to swing off in the suburbs,” He shrugged. “I supposed that we should find a house to crash in, preferably one that’s out of the way and looks the most ransacked?” 

Michelle nodded, knowing that she’d been thinking the exact same thing. 

They walked for less than an hour, both of the tired and hungry from the eventful past days. The sun was setting and the air was getting cooler, Peter already starting to shiver. It was colder than the night before and Michelle remembered that they needed to get Peter some more clothes. 

Michelle found a house that seemed like it would be alright, crawling in through an already smashed window and helping Peter do the same. The place was already ransacked but Peter walked straight to the TV, beginning his routine of stripping it for parts. 

She ignored him, letting him do his own thing while she tested the gas on the stove and smiling when it worked. It was the small victories that made everything worth it now. Dinner was made quickly and served up to Peter just as he’d finished collecting everything he needed. 

He thanked her and sighed as he started shovelling the tinned food into his mouth, his stomach clenching at the smell. 

Michelle’s eyes flickered around the house, taking note of the family photos. A mom, a dad and two children had lived here, a boy and a girl. The boy was the oldest and it was clear they had a dog from the bed sitting next to the couch. 

Her eyes finally rested on Peter’s necklace, the rings swaying in the air as he bent over. She was about to ask but remembered earlier in the day when he said he didn’t like thinking about it, so she shut her mouth. 

There was no upstairs level to the house which felt strange to her. She was so used to having to walk up five flights of stairs every day because her building's elevator never worked. Rummaging through the drawers in the older boys room was just as she expected, messy and smelly. 

She managed to find a wife-beater singlet, a long-sleeved shirt, a plain t-shirt and a large denim jacket which she assumed Peter would be able to layer. It was going to start snowing within the next two months and if Peter was shivering now, he wasn’t going to survive the winter. 

However, she hoped they’d all be cured before that could happen. Call it wishful thinking but she was determined that there was more than this. 

There had to be more than this. 


	4. sick feeling

Peter was thankful for the clothes, putting them on immediately. Michelle stared unashamedly, only giving him a smile when he blushed after noticing. 

And they worked. 

After they left the city, as quickly as possible, he could now sleep in less than ideal conditions without shaking like a leaf. That is, only if he was next to Michelle and under her worn blanket. Michelle didn’t complain, their shared body warmth making for a nice portable radiator. 

The clothes worked until they didn’t. 

Days were getting colder, nights were worse. It was barely just beginning to snow and they’d been walking hours upon hours every day, finding themselves in rural Canada. Their luck and timing couldn’t be worse, having to sleep outside a lot due to the fact there was nothing around for miles. 

The last time they slept in a bed was 16 days ago and yes, Michelle was counting. 

Michelle always worried about Peter but recently she’d been neurotic about him. New York winters were cold, but they never had to survive them in the middle of the forest with nothing but the clothes on their backs. 

She’d managed to find some gel hand warmers in the last gas station they’d stumbled across and she grabbed the whole box, tipping it into her backpack and shoving them in every pocket Peter had on him. 

He spent all day and night shivering, sleep evading him no matter how badly he wanted it. 

They were sleeping in a hammock Peter had made for them out of webs to get them off the ground, their fire they’d made for dinner long gone. Michelle had pulled his body in closer to hers and for once she wished she was just a little bigger as to provide some more heat for him. 

His jaw was chattering violently as he shifted his head in her neck, tugging the beanie she gave him further over his ears.

“You-you know-” He paused to take a deep breath. “Sp-spider c-can’t thermoreg-regulate.” 

“That makes a lot more sense now,” She whispered, rubbing a hand up and down his back and telling herself it was doing something even though she knew it wasn’t. 

She wished they’d come across some tame horses or something because she could tell Peter was getting too weak to keep walking, he was taking more breaks than usual. They could carry Michelle and Peter further than in a week than they could in two, they could keep Peter warm. 

“I’m s-so tired,” Peter croaked before sighing. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just- just think about warm memories like- like standing over the electric heater even though your parents told you not to. Or- did you ever sit in the library after school and the sun would come through the windows and hit your back as you studied?” She gulped, looking down at him as he nodded slightly, his shivering calming just a little. “Maybe you sat on a bench in Central Park with Gwen and ate those gross hot dogs from the cart on the 97rh Street Traverse.” 

“Harry,” He muttered and Michelle hummed in response. “I did that with Harry, Gwen only eats fish.” 

“I like Gwen even more, I used to be a vegetarian, it’s too hard now.” 

“We had to give up so much of what made us ourselves in order to just survive, it’s not fair.” 

“I know,” She sighed. “And for someone who used to joke a lot about wanting to die, I sure as hell am putting up a fight to not.” 

Peter laughed slightly. His breathing slowing along with his shivering. Michelle continued to rub his back and only stopped when she was certain he was asleep, finally letting her own eyes close. 

They were lucky the next morning, it hadn’t snowed as of yet and the sun was high in the sky. Of course, there was still the morning frost but Peter’s hammock had kept them high off the ground and away from the wet. 

The first time they’d done this, Peter had to reassure her a hundred times that the webs were more than strong enough to hold them, referring to the time he’d held a ferry together. He’d also had to explain to her how he’d changed the webs to not dissolve as quickly as his old ones, that they weren’t going to disappear on them in the night. 

As always, well, when Peter slept at all, Michelle was the first awake. Peter was still asleep, his body relaxed and warm in the morning sun. She looked down at his face, tugging at a strand of his hair that easily brushed his cheekbones. 

Today was a day for rest, today was a day for Michelle to finally cut his damn hair. She had to wait until Peter was awake until they could get down, she didn’t trust herself to do any sort of climbing. 

So she let her eyes close again, she knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep again, it just wasn’t how her body worked. However, knowing that Peter was sleeping gave her a peace of mind so she relaxed, enjoying the sun. 

Peter woke up a while later, apologising straight away for making her wait. Michelle immediately brushed him off, waving away his apologies. He sat up and lowered them to the ground with another web, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

He gathered up their stuff, making sure everything was still there before taking out two tins of peaches, their breakfast of choice because it was so abundant in supply. Sitting down on the log he’d dragged over to sit around the fire with the night before, he started opening the cans, his hands shaking slightly. 

Michelle sat down next to him and accepted the open can, repeating the morning routine that they did every day. Her leg brushed up against his, something she would’ve never let happen a month ago. 

When they were finished, Peter stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, waiting for Michelle to do the same. She looked up at him and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pair of scissors and a comb. 

“Sit down,” She told him, causing him to furrow his brows. 

He obliged, sitting back down on the log as Michelle stood up, standing behind him. She yanked the beanie off his head and Peter protested, turning around to take it back. Michelle grabbed the top of his head and spun it around the right way. 

“I’m giving you a hair cut, sit still,” She enlightened him, to which he still protested. “You look like Shaggy.” 

“Shaggy was a stoner.” 

“Exactly,” Michelle hummed, running the comb through his hair. 

“I don’t even- when would I- what?” 

“Oh, c’mon, you and every kid at Midtown when midterms were  _ just too much _ ,” She mocked him, causing Peter to go silent and confirm her accusations. “Plus, Harry Osborn doesn’t know how to keep Snapchat to himself.” 

“I always ignored him when he pulled his phone but now I’m realising that maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” Peter hummed, listening to the snip of the scissors. 

Michelle laughed slightly before focusing on the task at hand and Peter busied himself by fiddling with his web-shooters. 

She was finished a short while later, running a hand through his hair that felt too short for his liking. Peter ran a hand through his hair himself, pulling at a strand to test how long it reached, knowing the curl altered his perception of the length.

“I know it feels really short but it’s not, it’s a normal length, you’re just used to have a mane on you,” She assured him, putting the scissors back in her bag. “Speaking of, you need to shave because you are clearly not growing a beard anytime soon and the caterpillar on your lip is disturbing.” 

“Don’t attack me for things I can’t control, miss leg hair,” Peter snarked back, smiling and standing up again before sniffing and rubbing his nose. 

“Maybe I like my leg hair, rat-stache.” She narrowed her eyes, picking up her own bag. 

“Maybe I like my rat-stache,” Peter paused as he thought of a name, his eyes flickering around. “Bitch.” 

“Bitch?” Michelle raised her brows, snorting and hitting his arm. “You can do better than that, webhead.” 

“I’ve heard that a million times before, nice try,” Peter shrugged her off, pushing her back gently. 

“I never said I was original,” She tilted her head and pushed past him, starting their walk for the day. 

Peter rolled his eyes and followed slowly behind, rubbing a hand over his stubble before frowning. He glanced at Michelle before muttering: “It’s not that bad.” 

Peter managed to walk for longer than usual, only instead of taking breaks he sniffed and coughed and sneezed instead. Every time he did, Michelle would cast a concerned glance in his direction but that would keep walking and Peter would pretend nothing had happened.

They’d been following the main highway for as long as they could but for the first time in weeks, they stumbled across a fork in the road. One was clearly leading towards a big city while the other was more remote. 

Both stood in the middle of the highway, looking between each road before Michelle took out a map. Peter watched on for a couple of seconds before licking his lips. “Should we be all poetic and take the road less travelled like that one dude said?” 

“Robert Frost,” Michelle informed him. “And I really don’t know if now is the best time for an English lesson.” 

“Yeah, you’re right we should wait until it’s night time and you think I’m kind of asleep so you can read to me to make me even more asleep,” Peter smiled, tilting his head at her and the way she avoided making eye contact with him. 

“I do not do that,” Michelle scoffed, finally looking at him. “I just read to myself and you happen to hear it.” 

“Why don’t you do it when I’m  _ awake _ awake then?” 

“Your grammar in the past couple of sentences makes me want to give you English lessons. The Calamity wasn’t good for your grades, Parker,” She mused before folding up the map and taking Peter’s advice after all, going down the less travelled road. 

“I know enough about poems thank you very much, I even have a favourite,” Peter quirked back before coughing a couple of times, following her down the road. 

Michelle looked back at him, raising her brows. “Which is?” 

“Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden,” Peter replied, looking at the ground, his hand coming up to fiddle with the rings around his neck. Michelle noticed he did that a lot, usually when he was thinking too much or their conversation rounded to anything to do with his past life. 

“Sad poem, why?” 

“It was the poem my Aunt read at my Uncles funeral. I know it was written by a man for a man but you know- it’s about loving someone so much it feels like the world stops along with their heart and I think it still stands,” Peter shrugged and Michelle looked back at him, gulping. 

Peter had never said something so specific about his family. From what she’d gathered over the past few weeks, his parents weren’t in the picture, he lived with his Aunt and Uncle but she knew his Uncle was dead. Who didn’t? The whole school knew just hours after it had happened thanks to his status as a cop, it was all over the news. 

She didn’t want to give him pity, she knew people hated that and Peter especially would hate that. He bore the weight of the world on his shoulders and his own problems were stacked on top like a second thought. His problems were just that, his. Michelle was the same. 

“He gave me a lift once,” Michelle started, moving so that she was walking in step with Peter. “Ben- right? Yeah, my dad forgot to pick me up after an extended Decathalon practice once so I started walking home. It was the middle of winter and it was already dark so it was freezing and I had only just started walking when a police car pulled over next to me and offered me a ride. Normally, I wouldn’t accept a ride from anyone at all, especially not middle-aged white men but there was something about him that made me- trust him. So I took the ride and he gave me a blanket and made average conversation until I was dropped off.” 

Peter was quiet for a moment, going over something in his head before looking up at her. “Did you tell him his receding hairline made him look like Prince William?” 

“Yeah,” She laughed slightly, nodding. 

“I remember that night,” Peter smiled. “He told me he gave away my favourite blanket and I was so mad at him but he told me that the girl he gave it to needed it more than I did and that if I see someone in trouble I should always do something because you never know how much they might need it.” 

“Well, that explains your hero complex,” She teased before twisting her bag around to the front and pulling the blanket out. “If you loved that blanket so much, you can have it back.” 

He looked between her and the blanket, jaw slack. Carefully, he took it in his grasp and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you kidding? We’ve been using this blanket forever and I didn’t recognise it?” 

“Guess not,” She shrugged, smiling. 

Peter ran it through his hands a couple of times before wrapping it over his shoulders. He shook his head and smiled wider, running a hand over his face. Michelle smiled to herself and refocused on the road in front of them. 

By the time Peter was starting to shiver again, they’d made it into a suburb where all the houses were once again ransacked. Michelle sighed in relief that they could sleep in an actual bed tonight with actual blankets. She sighed in relief for Peter, that he would be able to sleep another night. 

She picked a home that had a chimney, leading Peter into it and immediately made her way to the fireplace. There was a stack of logs next to it which she immediately threw in and started a fire with. Michelle would be surprised that no one had taken the logs but people were dumb, so she wasn’t. 

Peter walked up next to her and sighed. “People will see the smoke.” 

“I don’t care,” She deadpanned, shoving more logs onto it. 

“Michelle we could be-” 

“I don’t care,” She cut him off, staring at him. “I’m not letting you freeze another night.” 

“We’ll just use extra blankets it’s fine,” Peter whispered, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

Michelle ignored him, watching the fire until she was sure it would stay going. Peter sighed, turning away and taking a seat on the couch. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on the wall behind him. 

“Michelle, I- if someone finds us I won’t be able to fight them off. I’m-I’m too weak,” Peter let his eyes close, not wanting to look at her. 

“I don’t care,” She said once again, moving into the kitchen and starting the gas stove. 

Peter rested his head in his hand as he listened to the sound of food being cooked and the crackle of the fire. It was entirely too homely for his taste. It was too comfortable for the situation they were in. 

It’s like his body was shutting down, caving in on itself. Which, it physically already was. He lifted his shirt up, cringing at his malnourished body. It was weird, the fact he still had muscles to show and his body hadn’t begun to eat away at them. 

He could barely keep up with his metabolism before. A teenage girl would’ve killed to have the same metabolism as him. Now, it was a curse. He figured that he ate at most a thousand calories a day, which was five times less than he needed to maintain Spider-Man duties and at least three times less than he needed to do day to day functions without feeling like passing out. 

Peter was two seconds from drifting off in the heat of the fire when Michelle walked back into the room and handed him a bowl. He sat up, taking the bowl and cutlery before looking down at the tinned spaghetti and sausages she’d heated up. 

She must have used at least three cans because it was piled so high. Michelle said nothing, only sat next to him and ate her own food which was less than half of his. He sighed, lifting it up to his mouth and barely being able to control himself from drinking it like a soup. 

Michelle tried not to laugh at his eagerness because to be fair, he was behaving how she wished she could. She brought one knee up to her chest, resting the bowl on it and eating slowly. 

Peter finished before her, putting his bowl on the coffee table next to the couch and seemingly enraptured in the flames. He tugged at the fraying edges of the blanket as Michelle took his plate away. 

  
  


She rummaged around the house for a while before coming back with a full-sized duvet and a couple of books. Sitting back down next to Peter, she draped the duvet over both of them before handing him the book. 

“I know you’re going to fall asleep before you even open it but I got you one just in case,” She gave him a small smile which Peter returned before taking in the title of the book,  _ More Than This.  _ He looked over at Michelle who was still looking at him. “Reminded me of you.” 

He opened it up and started reading, Michelle doing the same and eventually, leaning her head on his shoulder. Looking down at her, he noticed how much further into the book she was than him. He noticed the curls that tumbled out of her braid and into her face but she didn’t seem to care at all. 

“Those magazines not cutting it anymore?” She murmured, not taking her eyes off her page. 

“Shut up,” He scoffed. “I grabbed those magazines as a joke, besides, it’s not like I ever have the opportunity to make use of them.” 

“Gross.” Michelle scrunched up her nose and turned the page. 

Peter laughed, licking his lips before refocusing on the words in front of him. He read for a little while longer before his eyes drooped, sleep starting to take over his body. The book was gently taken out of his grasp and placed to the side before a head was placed on his lap and a soft voice filled the air. 

A smile graced his face as she read her book to him, her voice lulling him to sleep. 

Sleep didn’t last long, however. Sleep must hate Peter because he soon found himself wide awake and shivering violently, his hair matted to his head with sweat. Looking down, Michelle was still in his lap but he could tell she was starting to wake up from Peter’s body tremoring beneath her. 

He couldn’t tell if he wanted the blanket on or off, if he wanted all these damn layers on or off, if he wanted Michelle on or off. Peter willed himself to calm down, to stop shaking so damn much and to do anything but cough. 

Of course, he couldn’t help it. He started coughing heavily, the action dry and chesty. It was enough to wake Michelle up, enough to wake anyone up. 

She sat up quickly furrowing her brows and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. All it took was one good look at Peter for her to clamber out of the bed and grab a bottle of water from her bag. Opening the bottle, she walked back over to Peter and helped him drink the water in between coughing fits. 

A sigh escaped her mouth as she pulled the thick duvet off him, leaving him in just the blanket. Peter looked up at her hopelessly, his eyes full of remorse. He felt bad that she was looking after him, that he couldn’t do anything for himself but it wasn’t his fault. 

He wasn’t getting all the food or fluids he needed. Michelle had figured out pretty early on that Peter needed more than the average person. He was like a car that had been running on the emergency fuel tank for the past almost ten months. If anything, she was surprised he didn’t get sick sooner. 

Michelle wasn’t a doctor, sure, she’d dealt with a sick sister before but it was easier when a single scratch on your body could be the difference between life and death. She only knew what WebMD had told her from midnight panic attacks about whether her sneeze fit meant she had cancer or not. 

Peter’s fever seemed to be worse than anything she’d ever personally experienced but she knew a fever was the bodies way of fighting an infection. With Peter’s enhanced healing, perhaps the more intense fever was just a consequence but it meant he was going to be better faster. 

Still, she grabbed a couple of Tylenol pills she kept stashed at the very bottom of her bag and made Peter swallow them. From the way she looked at her and took the pills reluctantly, she knew that his metabolism would probably burn through the drugs far too fast to do anything but the most she could do was try. 

She left the room again, coming back with a wrung-out cloth that she’d dowsed in water. She placed it on his forehead gently, pushing his hair out of his face and tilting his head backwards. It was only now because of the light from the fire and the angle of his head that she could see the tear tracks on his cheeks through the sweat and dirt. 

His eyes fluttered shut and she hesitated before grabbing the damp clothing and wiping it over his face, cleaning it gently. She went down his neck and behind his ears too, knowing that the last time either of them had bathed was weeks ago because it was too cold to get into any kind of lake anymore. 

The worst of it seemed to be over when she was finished, his shivering down to only a slight shake and he didn’t appear to be sweating anymore. With one last sigh, she ran a hand through his soaked hair and sat down on the couch, pulling Peter into her lap this time. 

Peter managed to fall back asleep eventually but she didn’t. Michelle stayed awake the rest of the night, running a hand through his hair and constantly worrying about if he was going to get another round of chills. 

To think, on the day they first met she probably would’ve left him for dead. 

Peter woke up the next morning and Michelle immediately greeted him with a tin of pineapples and a bowl of warm baked beans. To top it off, she’d put another bottle of water next to the couch and the fire was restacked with logs. He didn’t say anything as he accepted the food, too embarrassed to even look her in the eye. 

Last night had reminded him far too much of May and how she used to take care of him. Of course, Peter very rarely got sick after the spider-bite but when he did, boy was it bad. It usually consisted of non-stop vomiting. 

He always found impossible not to cry after throwing up so needless to say, he’d the whole time he was sick crying and his body wracked with exhaustion. May would give him pills and electrolytes and all sorts but he never even knew if they worked or not, what with his metabolism and healing factor. 

He’d like to think, however, that his body had made the Tylenol kick in faster last night and that’s why he’d stopped shaking. 

May also used to sit next to him, on his bed, on the couch, on the bathroom floor as he hunched over the toilet, anywhere and rake her fingers through his hair. She’d whisper to him, anything and everything, Peter didn’t know because he was too preoccupied but even just the sound of her voice made him feel better. 

He supposed that Michelle had figured out his metabolism problem, something that he tried to keep hidden from so as to not burden the duo with the need for more food. Maybe it was because even through all the layers, the wind showed off his newly concaved stomach. Maybe it was because his cheeks had become so sunken in he could hide things in the hollows. 

It wasn’t like Michelle wasn’t losing weight too, she was, just not as much. She could still function perfectly fine off the amount she was eating while Peter would struggle to even stand up if he ate the same. 

“You need to eat, Peter,” Her voice snapped him out of his daze. 

He looked up at her and nodded vigorously, ignoring the way it made his head spin before eating. Peter tried not to think about May but everything she did that Peter found comfort in swirled around his head, so that meant everything May ever did. 

Peter missed her, he missed her so damn much and it was his fault she was gone. 

His hand came up to play with the rings once again and he begged himself not to cry, to do anything but cry. To scream, shout, throw the empty cans at the wall, anything. He couldn’t do it and the before he’d said anything at all that morning he was crying. 

Michelle wiped his eyes but said nothing, simply handing him the bottle of water. He drained it quickly before resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall. Ignoring his headache, he tugged at the roots of his hair as hard as he could without making himself bald. 

“Are you feeling better? Do you need anything? More food?” Michelle fired the questions at him and took away the empty cans. Peter didn’t reply. 

“I killed my Aunt.” 

Michelle didn’t say anything, what was she even supposed to say to that. 

“I killed my Aunt and I’m killing you too,” Peter’s voice cracked as more tears fell down his face. 

“You’re not- what?” Michelle gulped. 

“I’m eating all our supplies and drinking all the water, I’m- I’m- like you said, I’m just dragging you down. I’m going to get you killed because I’m using all the supplies,” Peter explained, gesturing towards the mess Michelle had made the night before when rifling through her bag. “I killed my Aunt and I’m killing you.” 

“You’re not killing me, Peter, don’t say that,” Michelle’s voice was strong, almost angry. “I’m surviving fine off what I’m eating but you need more and that is  _ not _ your fault. Peter these past couple weeks you’ve barely been able to walk, I’m surprised you even made it this far and that’s because you’re not a quitter. Guess what, neither am I and there is no way in hell that I’m quitting on you.” 

“You should,” Peter whispered. “You should because I’m not even helpful anymore. It’s too cold and I can’t keep myself warm and I’m too weak now to fight or hunt. I’m useless and all I’m doing is keeping you from getting to that damn dock.” 

“Bullshit,” She spat. “You have that formula, we need that and you’re smart enough to make it. We’ll hide here for a couple of days, we’ll build your strength back up and get on the move again. We’re fine.” 

“I’m dying, Michelle. I’m literally dying because of my own stupid powers but just because I am doesn’t mean you should too.” 

“You’re not dying, not on my watch,” Michelle’s said stoically, authoritatively. “You said to me just yesterday that if you see someone who needs help, you help them. I don’t give a shit about the fact you need more of our supplies than I do, it’s just how it is and I’m not leaving you because- because I need you.” 

Peter looked up at the girl standing in front of him with bloodshot eyes, his thumbs pressing into his neck as he gulped. Michelle’s jaw was clenched along with her fists as she stared down at Peter, tears of her own threatening to spill. 

“I need you for my own sanity and maybe that makes me selfish but I don’t care. I’ve never been good at getting close to people and after the Calamity, I was certain I was never even going to talk to another person ever again and here you are. Here you are, in all your kind of annoying glory and I need you to stay alive for me and to stay alive because I know for a fact you’re the one who is going to fix all this shit, the world needs you, Parker,” Michelle never broke eye contact with him as her fists, jaw and voice shook. Peter didn’t know if it was out of anger or sadness but he didn’t care. 

He took a deep breath and composed himself, standing up and shoving all his feelings to the floor. They were chest to chest now and Michelle was still looking right at him and for a girl who didn’t seem to have emotions whatsoever, she had a lot of them right now. 

Peter licked his lips, wanting to reach out and touch her but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to her, to himself, to Gwen. Right now their focus was surviving and Peter just had to ignore the pounding in his chest. 

“Ok,” Peter whispered. “Keep me alive but when you start dying, just because I didn’t throw you across the room and break your neck like I did to May, doesn’t mean it’s not my fault.” 

“I’m not dying and neither and you, now unless you want to pass out, I recommend you sit back down while I go and raid their backyard, it looks like they have some fruit trees,” Michelle’s voice was finally quiet and her nose scrunched up to hold in the tears. 

Peter listened to her advice, sitting down on the couch and wrapping himself in the blanket and looking at the book she gave him the night before. Michelle turned away and walked out the back door and into the garden, which Peter could see her in through the window. 

Michelle was right, they did have fruit trees. She was planning on only picking enough for the next couple of days because rotten fruit was no body’s favourite but the second she reached up to grab the first apple, she broke down into tears. 

She let sobs rack through her body and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilt. Her hands and face were numb from the cold but she tried her best to wipe away the tears and control her breathing. 

It was no use, it was like everything from the past nine months was crashing down on her like a tidal wave and she was drowning. Her parents, her sister, being alone and terrified for eight months until she almost shot Peter god damn Parker in an abandoned high school. 

She wanted to stay in that town forever until she ran out of supplies or someone killed her. Her plan was like Into The Wild except with zombies. Then came Peter, who forcefully dragged out of Pickle Lake in a bright yellow school bus with a shit-eating grin. 

The dock in Vancouver was too good to be true and as much as it inspired hope in her, with every passing day the less she believed in it. If the Japanese really did have a cure, then why wasn’t everyone cured? She’d rebutted Peter’s point of that but the argument was growing in validity every second that went by. 

She kept herself alive for him and it scared her. Michelle had grown attached to him, he was the first person outside of her family that she’d ever felt any kind of emotional bond too. She didn’t like it but she needed it, so, so, badly. 

It was almost cruel how they met in these circumstances. Well, how Peter had met Michelle. Michelle knew who he was for years, how could she not. It seemed like the first day of Senior year had sent a shock wave of realisation through everyone that; wow, Peter Parker is kind of hot. 

Peter had obviously heard and seen her breakdown from inside the house but he hadn’t come outside. Obviously, Peter would’ve come outside in a heartbeat but he was probably too tired to stand up, for one. Secondly, Michelle had told him to sit on the couch, Peter always did pretty much everything Michelle told him to do. 

Fighting the urge to crumple into a ball on the ground was hard but she did it, she made herself stand up straight again after warding off a panic attack and she picked the first apple off the tree. She would pick the apple for Peter, for herself, for the small percentage of Earth’s remaining population. 

Peter had given her a will to live and she supposed it was time to return the favour. 

Her hands were shaking so much that she dropped the second apple she picked, cursing she bent down to pick it up but someone else beat her to it. She jumped out of her skin for a second before realising it was only Peter and taking a deep breath. 

“Sorry,” He said quietly, handing her the apple. 

“You should be inside, it’s too cold out here,” She replied, taking it and looking away from him. 

“I, um, I wanted to make sure you were ok,” Peter replied, looking her up and down. 

“Fine,” She insisted, ripping another apple off the tree.

Peter didn’t reply, watching as her bottom lip quivered and her jaw clenched. The tracks where fat tears had rolled down her cheeks were smudged by still present and the sight of it made Peter’s heart clench. 

He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek as she flinched at the contact. “Michelle-” 

“It’s MJ,” She whispered, looking at him for a split second before collapsing into his chest. “My name is MJ.” 

Peter nodded, wrapping his arms around her before heading towards the door, taking the fragile girl with him. She held back her sobs as she let herself be directed to the couch, only letting them out when they’d sat down, his arms still wrapped around her. 

MJ let herself be coddled, something she’d never done before. His lips were pressed to the top of her head as he whispered affirmations that she paid no attention too. The only sounds she could hear were her own cries and pathetic sniffles. 

The stiffness from the cold melted away as they sat in front of the fire, Peters hand rubbing her back before pulling the duvet over them. She eventually gave in to the exhaustion of crying and went quiet, the only sounds now being the gentle crack of the fire. 

One of Peter’s hands were placed on the top of her head and she knew that if her hair was down he’d be playing with it. MJ didn’t wear her hair loose anymore, it was impractical and got in the way but God, she really wished her hair was down right now. 

"Promise me that you'll never leave me, please," Michelle whispered so quietly that Peter wouldn't have heard it if he didn't have enhanced hearing. 

"I promise I'll never leave you, MJ," Peter replied without hesitation, resting a hand on her cheek. 

MJ, unequivocally, mortifyingly needed Peter Parker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter i've ever written and im not sorry about it not one bit. idk if this story feels like its moving too fast ? lmk   
> any and all feedback is welcome unless it's really mean :(   
> thank you all so much for reading and yes i did update yesterday but im sick and have nothing better to do   
> twitter?: rueshewitt


	5. it's not easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning: mentions/descriptions of recreational drug use and descriptions of disassociation, look after yourselves queenies <3

Living in the shadow while longing for the sun was miserable and Harry Osborn could tell you all about it. 

His father had been a looming, foreboding presence his entire, albeit short, life. The worst part of it was, no one knew that. Every single person he met just assumed that oh, he’s an  _ Osborn,  _ he must be living the dream. The life everyone wished they had, huh? 

He knew he sounded like a spoiled brat when he complained about, the white, rich boy with daddy issues, poor him. How dare he complain about that when his best friend’s only living relative was his Aunt, at least, that’s what his father always said. 

Harry hated his father and that was an understatement. If he could, he’d tear him limb from limb and shout every terrible thing he’d ever done from the top of his father’s tower. He couldn’t do that, the list was too long. 

The Calamity was his fault, he let this happen. He sat back and watched him his team cook up this chemical for months. He’d watched scientists go mad and attack their colleagues, he’s pretty sure he watched someone be murdered. Harry left the room before his suspicions could be confirmed. 

The only person he’d ever told was, of course, Peter and he didn’t even mean too. It had slipped out in a fit of rage as he stormed Peter’s apartment on New Year's Eve. His best friend was shocked, to say the least, but they’d both made themselves focus on various substances rather than the world ending intelligence Harry had shared. 

Even after, all Harry did was sit back and watched. He watched from the penthouse as people dropped like flies at the hands of the Infected, the Infected that traced back to him. His father was thrilled - too thrilled to be considered sane. 

For the first time in his life, Harry had shouted at his dad,  _ really _ shouted. All the curse words, names and insults that dripped from his tongue like acid were a faded memory now. He couldn’t remember them and he wasn’t sure if it was from fading memory or because his father had punched his lights out in one fell swoop. 

All Harry did was watch. 

Watch as the remaining Oscorp members rejoiced with the fact it was 85% successful. Watch as they continued to work on it, using every resource they could to get it to 100%. Watch as the tower stayed up and running, food, water, electricity, entirely self-sustained and entirely for themselves. Watch as New York slept. 

He begged his Dad to make the technology public, to help the survivors who were basically living on the streets in the fear of being murdered. He begged his Dad to find out if Tony Stark was still alive, to find out if they could power the city with an arc reactor and fix everything. 

Nothing happened, for he was only Harry Osborn, a flea on the back on Oscorp and a piece of gum under his father’s shoe. 

So he left. 

He stole endless amounts of supplies and piled it all into an Oscorp van he didn’t care to know the logistics for and left. 

Harry couldn’t sit back any longer. 

He had to live with the fact his best friends were probably dead because of him but there were survivors who needed help, it was the least he could do. 

_ 9 months Post-Calamity  _

Parker luck was an awful thing to have. 

Peter and Michelle had managed to live another few days in the house without leaving. Guilt was forever chewing away at his couch-ridden body (per Michelle’s Jones orders) as waited on. 

The firewood was running low but Peter was feeling better and assured her every hour that he would be fine to get back on the road the next day. MJ would ignore him whenever he brought it up. Their supplies were running low too and he had noticed that Michelle had started giving herself smaller portions. He decided he’d make it up to her by hunting down a moose just for her. 

They were comfortable, too comfortable for both of their tastes. It came back around to bite them when in the middle of the day, Michelle was reading Peter’s tarot cards clumsily and Peter all but jumped on to the ceiling just moments before the front door came crashing open. 

They had gotten too comfortable, Michelle had left her gun on the dining table in the other room next to the one Peter had stolen the other day and Peter, well, he was better but that didn’t mean he was okay. 

She stood up, beginning to make her way to the dining room when Peter grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him. He didn’t need to speak but she knew it was because it was too late. 

Lone footsteps echoed through the empty house, the occasional squeak on the hardwood floor let them know they were wearing sneakers. MJ’s breath began to pick up, Peter still standing as protectively in front of her with his chest puffed out the same way a lion would. 

She couldn’t help it, her heart started thumping wildly in her chest and she tried to her best to keep her breathing under control. Peter obviously heard the nervous rhythm and squeezed the wrist he was still holding to comfort her. 

The footsteps were right around the corner of the doorway to the sitting room they were currently in and they weren’t stopping. 

A man in a rumpled suit was standing in the doorway and looking right at them. His skin was green, covered in wounds and dirt. His face was angular, his cheekbones sticking out in a way no man’s ever should. 

Peter raised his arm and stepped forward a split second before the man charged towards them, his own arms outstretched. MJ stumbled backwards, slipping on the tarot cards and falling to the ground. 

Peter glanced at her quickly, worry flashing over his face just as the man's hands came into contact with Peter’s neck. He grunted, grabbing the Infected’s arms at the elbows and pushing them inwards towards each other. MJ squeaked at the sound of them cracking, the Infected didn’t make a single sound and that’s what scared her the most. 

Its arms dropped from Peter’s neck and instead rammed his body straight into Peter’s, trying to push him to the ground. Peter didn’t budge so easily, instead, he grabbed the body and threw it back through the doorway. 

Michelle flinched when its body slammed into the wall, sliding to the floor. The air was still, Peter and Michelle holding their breath to see if it would take one of its own, that is if they even did breathe. 

Its eyes snapped opened and bore straight into Peter’s standing up like he wasn’t just thrown twenty-five feet into a wall. Peter looked like he wanted to take a step backwards but he took a deep breath and charged forward, grabbing its head between his hands and twisting its neck sharply to the left. 

An even sicker crack than before echoed around the room and Peter let the body slump to the floor. Its eyes were open and staring into the ceiling, its head and elbows bent at unnatural angles. MJ would’ve thrown up from the sight if it weren’t for Peter’s laboured and shaking breathing as he looked down at it. 

She stood up carefully and walked over to him, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder only to receive no reaction. “Peter?” 

Peter didn’t answer, only let tear after tear fall out of his eyes, frozen in place. Michelle gulped, and moved him away from the body, he complied but moved stiffly, as if she was twisting the limbs on a doll. 

She moved to stand in front of him, tilting his head up to look at her but it was like he was looking through her. Tears still fell from his eyes as she wiped them away, confused as to why he was so dazed until she remembered their pivotal conversation from a few days ago. 

_ “Keep me alive but when you start dying, just because I didn’t throw you across the room and break your neck like I did to May, doesn’t mean it’s not my fault.”  _

MJ almost froze herself but she couldn’t let that happen, not when Peter was frozen himself. She recognized his state as one she found herself in many times, so she grabbed his hands and began rubbing them together. 

When he seemed to be doing that slowly himself, she ran her hands through his hair a couple of times before letting them fall down his neck and shoulders to the sides of his torso and back up. 

Steadily, the tears stopped flowing and his eyes focused on Michelle’s concerned face. She grabbed his hands, stopping them from rubbing together and he sighed. Peter let his forehead fall onto hers as he took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sorry,” He whispered, his voice raspy. 

“You have nothing to apologise for Peter,” She replied, rubbing circles with her thumbs into his hands. 

Peter nodded before standing up straight and letting go of her hands, bending down to pick up various items from the ground and shove them in his bag. “We need to go, we pushed our luck by staying here even this long.” 

Michelle nodded, agreeing no matter how much she wanted to stay until Peter was as healthy as possible. She grabbed her own bag and shoved things in hastily, even taking the tarot cards she’d found in the bookshelf. 

They’d managed to pack their whole lives up in a matter of minutes, scouring the house for anything useful and making sure nothing was left behind. Not that there would be anything useful left, the house had probably been raided multiple times over the past few months. 

  
  


Peter had a newfound determination and MJ could see it through his set and clenched fists. It was very different from the Peter that had taken Beanie Babies from the gas station and insisted that they were the most important thing they’d ever possess. Michelle didn’t like it. 

Their feet slapped along the pavement again, a sound they’d grown so used to returning after a short break. They walked shoulder to shoulder, their jackets rustling with each swing of their arms. 

If this were any other day, he would’ve pulled out his phone and given her an earbud, sharing his music. Times like that were long gone and oh, how he missed them. 

_ 5 months Pre-Calamity  _

“Dude, this song is shit,” Harry scowled, laughing slightly and attempting to rip Peter’s phone from his grasp. 

“I love this song!” Peter protested, gaping at the taller boy next to him and moving his phone away. 

Harry huffed, folding his arms over his chest and pouting. Peter rolled his eyes, changing the song anyway and pretending not to notice the smirk on his friends face. 

“You love the song but you love me more,” The taller boy sighed dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. Peter scoffed, shoving his shoulder as they walked into Peter’s apartment building. 

Peter, chirpy as always, said hello to every person they passed, most giving a friendly smile or hello back while others merely grunted and rolled their eyes. Even so, Peter wasn’t phased. Harry wished he could be so cheerful but instead, he avoided eye contact with everyone, feeling just fine wallowing in his brooding demeanour. 

The earphones were ripped out of their ears as Peter unlocked the door to his apartment, swinging it open and dumping his bag on the table by the entrance. Harry did the same, smiling as May came bustling over, enveloping both of them in a warm hug and spewing questions about their day. 

Harry wasn’t much of a hugger, but he’d always hug May. Besides, he couldn’t bear to even imagine the look on May Parkers face if he swerved one of her hugs. 

Peter’s apartment always smelt like essential oils and sage, occasionally there would be incense burning on the window sill across the room. It was a stark contrast from the white walls and almost hospital smell with a hint of vanilla that was Oscorp tower. 

“Oh, Harry, I made some of those cookies you said you liked last time! I think they’re better this time, I’ll go grab them,” May squeezed his shoulders and rushed back to the kitchen, scooping up the plate and bringing it back to the boys. 

Harry took the plate, giving May and genuine smile and thanking her. It was common knowledge that May wasn’t the best cook, considering she’s set the fire alarm off six times in the past three years. These cookies, however, were the one thing she got right and oh boy, did she get them right. 

Shoving two in his mouth, he grinned and she returned the smile, her eyes sparkling. Peter took one himself and took a bite, telling his Aunt that they were going to Peter’s room now and they’d let her know if they needed anything and yes, Harry would be staying for dinner. 

Escaping to Peter’s room, Harry flopped down on Peter’s bed, kicking his legs up to sit against the slats of the bed above it. Peter pushed his legs down and shoved the boy over, lying next to him and grabbing his laptop. 

“Petey, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, you will never get Gwen into bed if it’s this one,” Harry looked over at him, watching the way Peter’s cheeks turned scarlet. 

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong because I did,” Peter muttered, typing in the password to his laptop. 

Harry sat up on his elbows, jaw slack. “Are you serious?” 

He shrugged, biting his lip and shoving Harry’s hands away when they swatted his arm. Harry demanded to know when and how and if she looked as good naked as he’d imagined and if Peter lasted, all to which Peter shook his head. 

“Look- I- it was like a month ago when May was on a date and yes it’s happened since, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Peter raised his voice to be heard over Harry’s, still avoiding making any eye contact. “It was nice.” 

“Nice?” Harry scoffed. “Dude, you’re such a sap.” 

“Shut up,” Peter protested, furrowing his brows. “I really like her and she means a lot to me. This isn’t one of your- party hookups or whatever, it’s- she’s more important than that.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m happy for you, Pete. I’m glad you had fun and I hope she had fun too or that would really suck for you,” Harry smiled and Peter rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. “I can’t believe you haven’t asked her to be your girlfriend yet.” 

“It’s not that serious, we’re just having fun,” Peter shook his head, pulling up an illegal version of Crazy, Stupid, Love. 

“Oh come on, you two are like in love, stop denying it and just- you two already act like a couple anyway with the way you go at it against your damn locker so just take her on a proper date and pop the question.” 

“We’re not getting married,” He scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Whatever,” Harry focused on the movie, both boys going silent to watch the film before Harry grabbed his arm a few seconds in. “Dude, you gotta fuck while you’re rolling, I promise you it’s amazing.” 

“Harry, you know I don’t do that, the first time was enough to put me off that shit for life.” 

“That’s just because you were paranoid, you’ll be fine with Gwen.”

“She doesn’t like that stuff,” Peter mumbled. “I’m not going to get high and make her babysit me. I don’t mind babysitting you because it’s funny and then I can make sure you’re staying safe.” 

“Aw, thanks, Petey-Pie,” Harry smiled and took a cookie from the plate on the bedside table, stretching over Peter to do so. 

Peter grunted and snatched the cookie from him, shoving it in his own mouth much to Harry’s dismay. He tried to grab it back but gave up and grabbed the whole plate instead. Peter grabbed the plate, pulling it away from Harry but he wasn’t giving up that easily. 

Rather, the plate went tumbling to the ground along with the cookies, the floor becoming a mess of crumbs and broken cookies. Both boys went silent, staring at the fallen treats as if they were the sunken Titanic. 

Harry burst out laughing, “I am not cleaning that up.” 

_ 9 months Post-Calamity  _

“-not cleaning that up.” 

“What?” Peter snapped his head up. 

“That,” MJ pointed to the rotting carcass of a raccoon in the corner of a kitchen. “I’m not cleaning it up.” 

Peter scrunched up his nose, the decaying smell finally hitting him. “What makes you think I’m going too?” 

“Because I said so and we’re like half an hour from sunset and this is probably the only house for miles so,” MJ gestured to the body. “Get rid of it, tough guy.” 

“I never said I was tough,” He grumbled and pulled the material of his hoodie over his nose before stalking over and grabbing the thing by its tail with a plastic bag covered hand. 

Peter tried his best not to gag as he walked back to the front door and tossed it into one of the bushes. He slammed the door shut and lowered his hoodie, shaking the bag off his hand viciously and taking in big gulps of air. 

“It can’t have been that bad,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t see you discarding the dead rabbit!” Peter replied, his eyes wide with slight annoyance. 

“It was a raccoon, Spider-Wuss,” She replied, as a small smile graced her features. 

He huffed, pouting at her and walking further into the house, looking for a bedroom. Michelle followed him and they both dumped their bags onto the ground next to the bed when they found one. 

Peter flopped onto the bed and snuggled into the dusty covers, sneezing a couple of times before sighing. He remained still as Michelle looked around the room before handing him a bag of Skittles. 

He furrowed his brows and peered up at her. MJ gave him an expectant look before grabbing the pillows off the bed and exiting the room. The sound of her beating the dust out of them and coughing was easily heard over the sound of Peter opening up the packet of Skittles. 

Guiltily, he dipped his hand into the packet and shoved handfuls of sugar into his mouth. Michelle came back a few moments later with a scrunched up face and plopped the pillows back onto the bed. 

She climbed on and sat against the headboard, pulling Peter’s head into her lap. He wasn’t sure when it happened but she had a book in her hand. Peter was skimming over the words himself and when she went to turn the page he stopped her, not having finished yet. When he was done, he released his grip and let the page turn, only for her to start reading the words out loud. 

Peter smiled, chewing on some more Skittles before offering some to her, which she denied. She continued to read out loud and he would turn the page for her, the amusement clear in her tone. 

Eventually, her spare hand began stroking Peter’s hair. Her long fingers getting stuck a knot every now and then but working it out gently. The gesture was something she’d never actually done before. Usually, the only time they touched was when they were sleeping, trying their best to keep in all the heat they could. 

However, after the incident a few days ago, MJ had suddenly become a lot more comfortable with Peter. More specifically, she was more comfortable in touching Peter in a way that seemed to be more for his benefit than her own. 

Peter’s eyes were beginning to fall as he drifted off but he took in a deep breath and looked up at Michelle. She smiled down at him and shut the book, turning off the flashlight they’d been using before shifting down the bed until she was level with Peter. 

His arms wrapped around her and she did the same, resting her head on Peter’s chest and closing her eyes. 

“Hey, MJ?” Peter whispered and she hummed in response. “Do you think we’ll ever settle down? I mean, we can’t just travel forever.” 

Michelle turned his words over in her head a couple of times, realising the implication that the world was going to stay like this forever. She swallowed her disappointment and furrowed her brows. “Yeah, I mean, I guess.” 

“Would you- would you do that with me?” 

“Of course,” She said sincerely, her hand gripping his clothing tighter. “I’m with you till the end of the line, we’d figure it out. We always do.” 

Peter ran a hand down her back, pulling her closer before sighing. “I know you say that but MJ I- if something goes wrong- if I- MJ, I’ve killed too many people and if anything happens I need you to leave. I need you to look after yourself instead of me.” 

“That’s not going to happen,” Michelle replied, her voice stern but sighing slightly. 

“You don’t know that though, it might and it’s likely- I just, MJ I need you to promise me,” He whispered. 

“No.” 

“MJ-” 

“No, because that’s not going to happen, now cut this hero bullshit of you putting your life on the line for me because we both know I can look after myself,” MJ grumbled, pulling her head away from Peter’s chest. 

“But I can look out for you now-” 

“I don’t need another hero, I read about enough of those in fairytales.” 

Peter sighed, resting his head on top of hers. “Okay, goodnight MJ.” 

“Goodnight, Peter.” 

_ 3 months Pre-Calamity _

“Good morning, Petey-Pie!” His voice slurred through the phone. 

“Harry, it’s two-am,” Peter sighed somewhat bemusedly. 

“Exactly, it’s the morning,” Harry laughed. “I wish you were here, Pete, I wanna tell you all about this girl-” 

“Where are you? I can swing by, do you need a place to stay?” Peter cut him off, asking the same questions he always did when Harry called at this time. “Are you drunk and or high?” 

“The usual and can we go to mine? I’m all good I just wanna talk to you,” Harry hummed, making Peter smile a little. “I’ll text you the address, see you soon Petey.” 

Less than twenty minutes later, the two were safely situated in Harry’s oversized bedroom. Peter had webbed glowsticks to each paddle of the ceiling fan and set it on high with the lights off. It was something that they did every weekend, whether Harry was high or not. 

They lay next to each other the bed, Harry’s hands tracing the lines of Peter’s as he stared at the light show above. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling, a wide, amazed grin covering his face. 

“You gonna tell me about this girl?” Peter asked, breaking through the music playing in the room. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry mused. “Just met her at the party, she was wearing this like-like chain top and it felt so cold under my hands and I couldn’t stop touching it and she was just letting me touch it and I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe she was letting me touch her so much like I’m pretty sure we just stood in the corner for fifteen minutes letting me touch her top and we didn’t even kiss for ages and it was crazy dude, like, wild. 

“Then I fiddled with her dangly earrings when we were kissing and she just like let me do that and wow making out with someone is so much fun, it feels so cool,” The boy rambled, talking at a million miles an hour and Peter just listened, amused by the story and the rate of which it was being told. Harry looked over at him with a cheeky grin and opened his mouth to speak but Peter cut him off. 

“No, I’m not making out with you Harry,” Peter smiled, rolling his eyes at his best friends pout. “You ask every time and the answer is always no and I always tell you that you shouldn’t be taking molly this often and you always tell me it’s fine, that you’re safe and then I always tell you I should be getting you arrested and taking down your plug and you beg me not too and I agree because I know I’m always around to keep you safe but I still worry every time.” 

Harry looked at him, his jaw chattering slightly as his brows furrowed before he broke out into an even wider grin. “You sound like a hummingbird.” 

Peter snorted and shook his head, sitting up in the bed. He threw his hood over his head before climbing over Harry and landing on the floor next to the door. “I’m gonna get both of us some water, ok?” 

“Ok, Petey,” Harry smiled and looked back up at the ceiling, once again enthralled by the spinning neon. 

Peter left the room, heading down the expansive hallway and ignoring the pit in his gut that he always got in Harry’s penthouse. He would kill for something like this, for a chance to give May the craft room she wanted, the kitchen she wanted, the anything and everything room she wanted. He would kill to not feel so holed up all the time in their tiny Queens apartment. 

Even with a place like this, Harry was never one to brag about it. Perhaps that’s why Peter liked Harry as much as he did. If no one knew Harry was an Osborn, they never would’ve guessed it. He stayed quiet about it, of course, there were time’s when he’d show up to school with an expensive-looking Rolex or a branded jumper but that was it. 

Although, Peter knew the reason why Harry kept so quiet about it and he had to admit it was disheartening. There were times Harry would call him late at night or cry on his shoulder about how much he hated his father. 

Norman Osborn had a corrupt set of morals, to say the least. He was a money and power-hungry man who had the brain to back it up. It didn’t make for a good combination. Peter didn’t like the man either, he was selfish and manipulative, he’d even gone so far as to manipulate Peter into doing unpaid work for Oscorp. 

Harry had dragged him out of that situation a week later. 

He was ashamed about how his family had earnt their money and the name the Osborns had made for themselves. It wasn’t that their reputation was in shambles, it wasn’t and that was the problem. Harry wished it was, he wished the world could see Norman for who he really was, he wished his father wasn’t worshipped the way he was. 

Norman was hardly ever around the penthouse and Peter preferred it like that, so did Harry. 

So at fourteen-minutes-past-three in the morning, Peter was a little surprised to hear Norman’s voice greeting him from across the room as he got two cups from the cupboard. 

He didn’t flinch, due to the hairs on the back of his neck standing up before Norman could even get a word out. Peter turned to the doorway, gulping and pushing his hood off, leaving his hair a wavey mess. “Hi, Mr Osborn, how- uh- how are you?” 

“I’m doing well, thank you, Peter. We’re very busy down in the labs at the moment, making something very exciting so I only got back up a few minutes ago,” Norman replied, giving a tight-lipped smile before moving further into the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Peter replied, clinking the glasses in his hands together. “What’re you- what’re you making?” 

“You and I both know I can’t tell you that,” He chuckled, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. “But once you graduate, there’s always an open position for you if you want to get in on the action. We could use a bright and fresh mind like yours.” 

“That’s very nice of you, Mr Osborn, sir,” Peter cringed. “But I um, I’m thinking about applying for an internship at Stark Industries for over the summer, it’d look really good on my MIT application is all, with Mr Stark being alumni and all.” 

“Stark Industries? I suppose that’s true, don’t worry, I won’t take any offence. I do have a lot of influence at any school you wish to go to though, you know,” The man smiled and Peter forced a laugh. 

“I’m just more into the um, engineering side of things if you know what I mean,” Peter stumbled over his words and scuffed a shoe a long the ground. 

“We do have a great department here but I understand, don’t worry,” Norman gave him one final smile before beginning the leave the room. “Now go make sure my son isn’t choking on his own drug-induced vomit and then go to sleep, it’s rather late Mr Parker.” 

Peter was frozen to the spot with wide eyes as he watched the man leave the room, taking all the air with him. His breath was caught in his throat as he forced himself to fill up the glasses, gulping his own down in seconds and refilling it immediately. 

He scurried back to Harry’s room as quickly as possible so as to avoid another run in and opened the door. Harry lying spread eagle on the bed, taking videos of the fan before turning the camera to Peter, who forced a smile and shook his head, placing the water on the bedside table. 

The feeling in his stomach was hard to ignore but it had to be done, so he distracted himself with the continuation of the story of Harry’s forbidden romance from that night. 

_ 9 months Post-Calamity  _

Peter was sick again, not as sick as before but still, he was sick. 

MJ couldn’t count the number of times Peter had apologised in the last two days, it was starting to really annoy her. He’d apologised for being sick, for dragging them down, for wasting supplies, for killing her. Which he wasn’t but it wasn’t easy to convince him otherwise. 

Once again, he’d shiver relentlessly throughout the day and night and MJ had found a sleeping bag in the last house they’d crashed in, tying it to the underside of her bag. They’d squeeze into it in a web hammock and Peter would eventually be able to sleep, not enough though. 

Michelle herself was about one Peter sneeze away from another breakdown. 

Her thighs burned, her ribs pressed into her lungs when she breathed, her back and shoulders ached. She’d had enough of walking for hours on end every day for nine, almost ten months. If Michelle felt this way, she couldn’t imagine how Peter was feeling. He was strong, sure, but his own body had turned against him and there was nothing he could do about it. 

They were trudging along side by side, head’s down and arms wrapped around themselves as they walked against the direction of the weather. The snow was being blown into their faces, a nasty wind pushing it along and turning their noses red, stinging their bare skin. 

Peter hadn’t spoken in hours, not since the night before and if Peter didn’t speak then MJ had no reason to either. 

So when Peter stopped in his tracks, it was needless to say MJ nearly had a heart attack. His head was turned to the left and he began to move with more vigour than MJ had seen in days, which scared her. 

She chased after him, calling out his name to no avail. Peter was on a mission with no apparent title or goal but whatever Peter did, MJ did too. 

“Peter!” MJ finally yelled, catching up to him only to see that he was following multiple sets of footprints in the fresh snow. “No, Peter, stop.” 

“T-t-trust m-me,” He chattered, his voice raspy as he continued to walk. 

Michelle was terrified he was going to pass out at the rate he was moving, his body was too weak to keep up with the energy being exerted.  _ Michelle’s _ body was too weak to keep with the energy being exerted. 

Peter stopped in his tracks and looked up. Michelle did the same. Before them, stood a curved concrete wall at least two meters tall, the words engraved into the stone read:  _ ‘Paradise Hill Retirement Village.’ _

She couldn’t help it, she started laughing. Peter looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. “My-my senses, t-they j-j-just-” 

Michelle kept laughing, running her hands over her face and under her beanie, squeezing her head. She almost started crying but Peter beat her to it and set off again, following the curve of the wall. 

They reached the end and Peter shoved Michelle behind him, raising both his hands in the air quickly. Michelle went to ask him what was going on when the sound of a gun, two guns, being cocked echoed through the crisp air. 

“State your full names and how you found us,” A deep, authoritative Canadian accent boomed into both of their ears and Michelle thought it was best to slowly move out from behind Peter, her own hands raised in the air too. 

“P-Peter P-Parker and Mi-Mi-Michelle Jones,” Peter replied, his disappearing voice as loud as he could make it. “W-we saw foot-footprints.” 

“Come closer,” A separate voice ordered and the teenagers obliged, moving forward slowly. “Where are you two from? Not around here, clearly” 

“Queens, New York,” Michelle replied, gulping afterwards. “We’re harmless I promise- is there- is there someone we can talk to? We don’t even know what this place is.” 

“Retirement village turned village, a safe haven for survivors of the Calamity,” One of them said, their voices so similar neither Peter or Michelle could tell them apart. “I’ll take you in to talk to our Overseer.” 

Peter and MJ slowly walked closer, Peter leading the way until they were metres from two guards. They were donned with all-black winter gear, balaclavas over their faces and Peter felt jealous just from looking at them. 

“Jesus kid, you’re shaking like a Chihuahua who’s just seen a rabbit twice its size,” The man sounded slightly concerned as he looked down at Peter, his eyes flickering to Michelle quickly. 

“He-he’s sick,” Michelle said, desperation tainting her voice. “He needs food, real food, no more baked beans.” 

“We can get you both some soup and hot drinks, now c’mon,” He nodded his head down the cobbled pathway lined with bare trees before beginning to walk down it. “My name is Bucky, by the way.” 

Michelle nodded and willed for wherever their Overseer resided to be close, she wasn’t sure how many more steps Peter had in him. Not much from the looks of it and even Bucky seemed slightly weary. 

It felt like forever and it may have been but she didn’t know, nor did she care but finally reached a doorway which Bucky pushed open for them. Peter all but collapsed into the threshold, Michelle stumbling after him and grabbing his arm. 

It wasn’t long before a woman came rushing into the entranceway, ushering them inside along with Bucky, who was briefing the woman with the little information he knew. 

The woman moved behind both Peter and Michelle, taking their backpacks off them and gasping at the weight and size of them. MJ made note of where she put them down before they were directed to a couch situated in front of a fireplace. 

Peter sat down and sighed in relief, Michelle sat down next him, still with ever calculating eyes as she gazed around the room. Peter rest his head on her shoulder and she grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“Peter, Michelle,” The woman greeted them and Michelle finally looked up at her, taking in her put-together appearance. “My name is Peggy Carter, I’m this Haven’s Overseer, what can we do for you?” 

MJ was starting to warm up to this place, they had a female running the joint so it can’t be all that bad. Even so, she was cautious, as she should be. Peter was trying his best to stay awake, the smell of hot food keeping him going. 

“We-we’re from New York, survivours, obviously. I heard that the Japanese were sending boats over to a port in Vancouver and that they-they have a cure. We’re trying to get there but the winter it’s-” 

“Brutal, I know,” She smiled. “You two must be incredibly exhausted, I’m astonished at how much you seem to have accomplished, honestly.” 

“Peter, he-” 

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter offered weakly. “My metabolism is at least three times that of a normal persons and I can’t thermoregulate so I’m- I’m- yeah.” 

Peggy’s eyes seemed to soften with sympathy as she looked between the two teenagers on her couch. She was taking the news of Peter’s identity surprisingly well, almost too casually when Bucky reappeared, his balaclava off, handing them both bowls of vegetable soup. 

Peter sat up and forwent the spoon, bringing the bowl straight to his lips and sipping at it gently as if to test the waters. It was hot but it was the best thing Peter had had in a very long time, he couldn’t help but drain the whole thing in a matter of seconds. 

Michelle was more composed but she couldn’t blame Peter for drinking it like water. It was the closest thing to proper food they’d had in nine months. 

“We’re an almost completely self-sustained community. We grow our own crops, hunt our own food, everyone has a job here and everyone contributes. We don’t let just anyone live here but we also don’t turn away those in need, not that there’s been anyone besides you two stumble upon us,” Peggy informed them, brushing her short black hair behind her ear. “We have more than enough empty apartments for you to live in, we also have a medical centre available, if that’s where you’d like to go, Peter.” 

He shook his head slowly, “I was worse before, I just need food and warmth. I promise when I’m better I can- I can help around here with whatever you need. Farming, guarding, building, hunting, developing technology to benefit the community, anything.” 

“Developing technology?” Peggy asked, brows raised, clearly interested in the idea. 

“Peter and I- we went to a STEM school, Peter had an internship at Os-Stark Industries,” Michelle supplied, realising that name dropping the cause of the Calamity wasn’t the smartest idea. It was a lie, but that didn’t matter. 

“Very well, if you wish to take a bath, a warm bath, let me know,” She smiled, almost laughing at the way the two teens looked like they were going to burst into tears at the notion. 

A  _ bath.  _

Neither of them thought they’d ever see the day. 

_ 1-month Pre-Calamity  _

  
  


Winter was the best time to use Harry’s hot-tub. Harry’s own,  _ personal _ , hot-tub that was placed on the balcony of his bedroom. The water could go to whatever temperature they wanted and the balcony had a retractable roof for year-round use. Peter would be jealous but considering the fact he could swing onto Harry’s balcony whenever he wanted, he wasn’t. 

It was New Year's day and they’d woken up after stumbling into the tower at four in the morning Gwen and Miles in tow. Harry had gladly given Peter and Gwen their own room next to his while he and Miles shared a bed. 

It was a little weird for Harry, sharing his bed with someone who wasn’t Peter but whatever, Miles and Gwen in the same room would be weird and Harry was no cockblock. 

Harry could barely believe Peter was still standing let alone functioning due to the fact he’d witnessed the boy skull enough Everclear to quite literally kill any normal person. Thank God for enhanced metabolism and for once, Harry was the one flipping his shit and making sure Peter wasn’t going to end up with a tube down his throat. 

Sure, Everclear was illegal in New York but Norman Osborn was an alcoholic who didn’t take no for an answer. 

Peter was fucked, they were all fucked, hell, even Gwen was. It was New Years and they were teenagers, what else would they have done? Plus, the information Harry had revealed to Peter the day before would’ve given both a bit more incentive.

Harry and Miles really wished that of the minimal amount of things the Osborns didn’t have, soundproof walls weren’t included. 

Harry woke up first the next day, immediately getting himself into a very long shower before going to the kitchen. The Osborns cook, which Harry felt weird about having, was already bustling away with making a large breakfast for the four. He wasn’t sure how the chef knew they were there but he didn’t care either. 

When he could tell the meal was just about done, he went back to his room and threw a pillow at Miles, jolting the boy awake who groaned and rolled off the bed. 

Next was Peter and Gwen, which he was  _ dreading _ . 

He knocked on the door, one, two, three times, gaining no response. Cautiously, he opened the door and peered in, wiping the metaphorical sweat from his brow when Gwen had Peter’s shirt on. 

Peter woke up abruptly and sat up, taking a massive gasp for air as Harry threw an expensive vase from the dresser at him. Luckily, he caught the object, placing it carefully on the bedside table. 

Gwen stirred next to him and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a hand to her forehead. Peter looked at her before looking at Harry, his eyes wide. 

“Rise and shine, love birds, breakfast awaits us,” Harry smirked and Gwen gasped, pulling the covers up to her chest even though she was wearing a shirt. Peter yelped when she did so, the action causing the duvet to start sliding off Peter’s own, naked body. 

Laughing, he shut the door and went back to the kitchen where Miles was already digging into the food. Harry scoffed, taking a seat next to him and getting a plate of his own food. Peter and Gwen came scuttling in ten minutes later, both now fully dressed but with Gwen still wearing his shirt. 

Both Gwen and Peter thanked the chef before eating, who merely smiled politely back. Harry stared at Peter, wondering just how the hell Peter could manage to drink what was pretty much rubbing alcohol and not die, let alone seem as if nothing had ever happened the next morning. 

Harry grumbled to himself about how it wasn’t fair because he could see Peter smirk as he shoved a waffle into his mouth. Harry narrowed his eyes at him before picking up a slice of pineapple and throwing it at him. 

Peter dodged it quickly but that didn’t stop it from hitting the person behind. Gwen gasped as the wet fruit slid down her cheek almost comically. Peter bit his fist and Harry burst out laughing, Miles was in the same boat as Harry, clutching his stomach. 

“Gwen, I am-” Peter began but Gwen interuppted. 

“It wasn’t you,” She replied, peeling it off her skin with a cringe before glaring at Harry playfully. “It was him.” 

“You’re so dead,” Peter grinned, looking pointedly at Harry. 

“I’d like to see her try,” He retorted, taunting the couple.

Gwen stood up from her chair and marched over to Harry, who slunk down in his seat and began apologising profusely, holding up his hands in surrender. Gwen smiled and grabbed the back of his head before shoving into his pancake and golden syrup covered plate. 

All of them, including Harry, were laughing, the sight of golden syrup dripping from his chin and eyelashes was one they'd never forget. Hell, Peter even took out his phone and snapped a picture of it. Just in case.

“I just showered,” Harry whined, still laughing as Gwen took her seat, munching away at her food as if nothing had ever happened. 

“And what?” Peter asked mockingly, causing Harry to reach across and swat his arm. 

Peter returned the favour, the play fight escalating until Peter was holding Harry in a loose headlock. “Go shower, you’re all sticky and gross.” 

“Unless you’ve showered since last night, you’re exactly the same, Petey-Pie,” Harry smiled, turning away into the bathroom and leaving a groaning trio behind. 

Miles had convinced them to get into the hot tub after breakfast, well, it didn’t take much convincing at all. Gwen and Peter had already got themselves in, both relaxing as the heat enveloped their bodies, drawing the events from last night out through their pores. 

Harry told them he was going to go fetch some more towels before going deeper into the penthouse. He found himself rifling through the linen closet and grabbing a towel for each of them. 

“-soon, at the end of this month, we’ll release it.” 

Harry paused at the sound of his father’s muffled voice, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the towel. His whole body went stiff, knowing that this can’t have been something he was supposed to be hearing. 

“It’ll work, I promise. We’ve been working on it for months, it’s ready.” 

His breath caught in his chest as his body started to constrict, it hurt and he felt like he was about to cave in on himself. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, he wasn’t supposed to know that. Harry was certain that if he hadn’t heard it right now, he never would’ve. 

Harry suddenly couldn’t decide if their lack of soundproof walls was a blessing or a curse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok another .. decent-sized chapter and i tried something new. the station eleven and chaos walking influences are strong in this fic ok anyway hope you enjoyed. lmk what you thought, what you think is gonna happen, what you want to happen, what you liked/disliked ok cool thanks see ya 
> 
> twitter; @/rueshewitt


	6. all for us

The short amount of time it took for Peter to get better was miraculous. It was amazing what proper food, a hot bath and clean clothes could do for a person. 

Of course, MJ worried about him for days, weeks afterwards but his condition was improving and she could physically see him gaining weight. She too was gaining weight, she could see it in the way her face was beginning to fill out, her cheeks getting slightly chubbier. 

Peter had forced himself to ask Peggy to be assigned a job just three days after they go there. He’d only just recovered, feeling better than he had in months and if he was going to stay here and eat their food, he was going to contribute. 

MJ had already started helping out with the children of the community since the first day, her heart sinking at the thought of kids having to live through the same things that they did. Of course, they’d been told what had happened but had never come into contact with an Infected and she couldn’t be more relieved. 

She taught some of them how to read, taught others basic history and math, answer any question they fired at her as well as she could. She enjoyed spending her time with the younger kids the most, the older ones left her alone for the most part anyway. There weren’t many anyway, Peggy had said that there were only 67 people living here, with 53 of them being over the age of 15. 

On their third day here, Peggy had introduced them to rest of the community. Every morning they had breakfast and lunch together which consisted mainly of porridge and soup due to the lack of crops in the winter season. 

They’d been lucky with the retirement village, it’s gimmick of ‘being one with nature’ meant that they were near a lake and a forest, miles away from any nearby main cities. That also meant its facilities were off the charts. They had a medical centre, about a hundred rec rooms, tennis courts, a library that Michelle would be eternally grateful for. 

Over half the self-contained apartments were empty and Peggy had been kind enough to assign them one in the same block as other’s their age. Peggy had given them separate rooms, to begin with, but she could quickly tell the teenagers didn’t enjoy being out of each other's sight any longer than they had to be. 

Peggy was gentle with them, understanding that nine months of the road would bring a fair amount of trauma along with it. While not knowing pretty much anything about Peter and Michelle’s experiences, she didn’t have to know specifics to know it wasn’t a walk in the park. 

The first breakfast had been nerve-wracking for both of them. They’d been shown to the self-served breakfast bar, giant pots of porridge. Peter had been modest, taking less than enough for even Michelle. She’d rolled her eyes, loading up her own bowl and switching with Peter. 

The cafeteria-like room was bustling with people coming and going, sitting with groups of people usually separated by age group or family. MJ could tell that it wasn’t a rule to be like that, it was just how it had naturally worked out. 

It was high school all over again. Michelle looked over at Peter, who was eyeing up each table to see if they would be able to join anyone. It was clear they were new here and everyone knew it, he wondered if Peggy had told them all already. 

People would stare for a little, smiling politely if eye contact was made before looking away and continuing with their own conversations. 

Michelle had grabbed his hand and dragged him to an empty table, taking a seat across from him and digging into her food. Peter did the same, still wary about all the eyes on him. It wasn’t like his senses were going off, it just reminded him of how people would stop and stare when seeing the poor kid from Queens with Harry Osborn. 

They’d sat in silence for a few minutes before four bowls were set down beside them. Peter jumped slightly, cursing at himself for being so jumpy even with the stupid sense. 

“Hey,” A blonde girl had spoken, no smile on her face but still appearing friendly. “I’m Felicia, this is Johnny, Liz and Ned.” 

Each person waved respectfully as the girl, Felicia, introduced them. Peter gulped, stirring his spoon around in the porridge and glancing at Gwen. MJ bit back a sigh at Peter’s lack of normal charisma and smiled at them. 

“I’m Michelle, this is Peter, he’s just kind of sick at the moment so- sorry.” 

“Oh, my mom found this stash of herbal teas in the apartment we moved into. Whoever was there must’ve been a witch or something because there were all these crystals and those sage things around too,” The boy, Ned, laughed, smiling cheerily. “Apparently they’re good for your health so if you want one just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Peter gave a tight smile at the boy, swallowing his pride and the memories of May that had come back up. “I appreciate it, dude.” 

The boy smiled even wider if that was possible and turned to his food. The blonde boy, Johnny, snorted and shook his head. “Don’t mind Ned, he’s just excited there’s something new around here. Where are you guys from, sounds American.” 

“New York,” Michelle supplied, causing all their jaws to drop. 

“Holy crap!” The other girl, Liz, spoke up, her eyes wide. “That’s like- forever away, how’d you even-” 

“Walked,” Peter said, eyes flickering between his food and Liz. “Well, we drove a bus for about two days before it ran out of gas when we first met but that was it.” 

“A bus? Sounds crazy,” Felicia smiled, looking Peter up and down. 

Peter clenched his jaw and tore his eyes away from hers, fighting the light blushing creeping up his neck. He shovelled a couple of spoons of porridge into his mouth, finding the grain of the wood rather exciting all of a sudden. 

A conversation broke out between the four friends, Peter and Michelle staying out of it for the most part. However, they had a feeling they wouldn’t be staying out of it for very much longer. 

When Peter had first asked for a job, Peggy had struggled to think of something that would keep him out of the cold for a while but she’d had an ah-ha moment when she remembered reports of broken appliances and suggestions for better systems for getting things such as water for the baths. 

She’d shown Peter to the maintenance shed, gave him a stack of paper and a pencil before squeezing his shoulder and telling him to get to work. 

For the first time in almost a year, Peter was back in his element. This is what he did, this is what he loved to do. To be fair, it wasn’t as advanced as he used to do and a majority of his work was just building things that had already been invented hundreds of years ago, things that people used before power existed. 

It didn’t matter, Peter loved it. 

Michelle had noticed the change, Peter was back to how she’d remembered him from when they first met and even from the limited memories she had of him in high school. 

Sometimes, she’d have to physically drag him to dinner, much to Peter’s protests. 

After that, he’d quickly made friends with Johnny and Ned, the other two girls also weaselling their way into Peter’s limited circle. Hell, they’d even managed to crack a few smiles out of Michelle over the next few weeks. 

Neither Peter or Michelle liked to be apart from each other still and the second they’d reunite in the afternoon or evening they were inseparable. 

Even when the group would force them to come to the rec room with them, Peter and MJ would sit on the couch in the corner, just whispering to each other or reading. The others would all play rounds of table tennis or pool, attempting to get Peter and Michelle involved but to no avail. 

Peter was running his hands through Michelle’s hair, which she’d worn down for the first time in months that day. It was weird to wear it down once again but the need for having it out of her face was no longer present. 

Michelle was holding a book in front of her and anyone would’ve just thought they were talking but she was actually just reading out loud to Peter. She’d mastered the skill of whispering quiet enough so that only Peter would hear. 

“Oh my god,” Johnny groaned, catching their attention. “We keep going around in circles about this I know but can you two just fuck already?” 

Michelle rolled her eyes, ignoring him but Peter had gone tense underneath where she’d rested her head on his chest. She furrowed her brows and looked up at him, taking in his calculating expression. “You’re not actually thinking about it-” 

“I have to make an arc reactor.” 

“A- what?” Felicia piped up, leaning on the pool cue. “You mean the thing Tony Stark invented or whatever?” 

“Yeah, Tony Stark made one in a cave or something,” Johnny added. “But I don’t get why you would need to make one.” 

“It’s clean energy,” Ned said, his eyes wide. “I’d thought about it before but no one here would’ve been able to make one.” 

“Ok, but how did he just come up with this now, like, of all situations?” Johnny furrowed his brows, waving his arm in Peter’s direction. 

“You said circles, the arc reactor curves the motion of the particles into a circle to keep them in place long enough to collide with each other, to produce energy,” Peter sat up, gently moving Michelle. “If Tony Stark can build it in a fucking cave, I’m sure I’ll be able to do it here and then we- we can give the whole complex electricity again.”

“Holy shit,” Felicia mused, nodding with raised brows. “If you pull this off, I will be  _ very _ impressed.” 

“I’ve seen blueprints for a theorised one before too, I’m pretty sure I can remember it and then we can- holy shit,” He stood up quickly and left the room. Michelle gulped, staring at the closed door and wanting to follow but willing herself not too. 

There was no stopping Peter now. 

Peter was relentless. Michelle had tried to drag him out for meals at the beginning but there was no use, so she’d resorted to bringing him the food. She’d sit with him while he worked, making sure he ate everything on the plate before taking it back to the cafeteria, no words would be exchanged. 

Sometimes, MJ would stay up for him to come back to their room and would only fall asleep when she physically couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Some mornings, he still wouldn’t have come back, only for Michelle to freak out and sprint to the shed where he would be slumped over desk asleep and still clutching a screwdriver. 

Seventeen days into this routine and she couldn’t take it any longer. The longest she’d seen Peter for other than when they were sleeping was 53 minutes. Besides, sleeping alone wasn’t her idea of a good nights sleep. Peter hadn’t left her but he almost may as well have. 

Michelle stormed down to the shed, her fists clenched at her sides as he ripped the door open. Peter looked up from his frantic scribbling for a split second, acknowledging her with a grunt. 

“Peter you look like a fucking mad man.” 

Peter furrowed his brows, still writing relentlessly. “Huh?” 

“You look like shit, you haven’t bathed in almost three weeks, you’re filthy, your hair looks like the Gulf of Mexico and your patchy facial hair could put a Chinse Crested dog to shame, now get the  _ fuck _ up,” 

Peter’s jaw dropped, his grip on the pencil going slack. He scowled at Michelle, “What the fuck?” 

“Get up!” Michelle walked over to the table, making sure to not touch anything but Peter and grabbed his shirt, tugging at it. 

“Michelle, I’m so close just- for fuck's sake!” He groaned, swatting her hands away and standing up. 

MJ interlaced their fingers for the first time in almost three weeks and pulled him all the way back to their room, Peter shouting protests the whole but still not even attempting to pull his hand from hers or turn the other way. 

She’d already lit the fire beneath their bathtub and filled it with water in preparation for Peter’s reappearance. Shoving him into the bathroom, Peter sighed and gave her a tense look as she shut the bathroom door, separating them both once again. 

She waited until she could hear the sound of sloshing water before taking a seat on the bed, staring intently at the side of the mattress Peter usually slept on. MJ couldn’t help but wonder if this attachment she’d developed to Peter was healthy, considering it was affecting how she slept. 

It was the last thing she wanted to think about, Peter was important to her, that was all. 

He exited minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist. Michelle looked at him, trying her hardest to keep her eyes off his exposed chest, ignoring the fact that two months ago she would’ve gladly accepted the sight and now it made her stomach flip. 

She gestured to the chair she’d moved into the middle of the room, pulling out a pocket knife. 

“If this is the part where you murder me, I just want to say, I’d been expecting it but I also thought you would’ve done it by now so I’m still surprised,” Peter pointed out, pointing from Michelle to the chair yet still taking a seat. 

“I wasn’t going to murder you but now I think I might,” Michelle grumbled, handing him a bowl of water and a towel which he held with furrowed brows. “Tilt your head back.”

“Okay, so you’re slitting my throat.” 

MJ didn’t reply, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some out onto her palm before rubbing it over Peter’s face. His furrowed brows relaxed, seemingly realising what MJ was doing. 

She worked silently, going as slow as possible. Whether that was to keep him there longer or to do a good job was for her to know and Peter to never find out. Michelle hoped that he wasn’t listening out for her heartbeat at this particular moment. 

“MJ?” He croaked, peeking an eye open to look at her. She didn’t respond but he knew she was listening, she always listened. “I’m so close to figuring it out, it would change everything.” 

“I know,” MJ said, making eye contact with him as she whispered before focusing back on the task at hand. 

“The quicker I finish it the better, the easier our lives would be, we could- MJ we could have  _ lights _ again.” 

“I know,” She said again, biting the inside of her cheek. Dipping the corner of the towel into the water, she cleaned off his face before taking all the stuff away and cleaning up silently again. 

“We could have  _ music _ ,” Peter smiled, his eyes sparkling as he nodded to the record player on one of the dressers in their room. 

Michelle turned to look at him, slightly crestfallen at the fact he’d put a shirt and pants on. She studied his face, realising how much cleaner and put-together he looked now that she’d shaved his face. 

Peter ran a hand over his jaw and chin, tilting his head to the side. He muttered something about how weird it felt to not have a ‘beard’ anymore before walking over to her. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so- upset about it,” He said, frowning and running a hand up and down her arm. 

“It’s just- Peter, you- I still need you,” She muttered, looking at the hand on her arm and clenching the countertop behind her. “Just because we’re here now and with other people doesn’t mean I stopped needing you and I know it’s not- it’s not good that I’m so dependent on you but it- I am. And you’ve been working on this  _ thing _ for ages and you won’t even look after yourself and every day feels lonelier than the last and I can’t- I don’t like it.” 

Peter was quiet, his face contorted in a way that told her he was trying not to cry. He took a deep breath in and sighed. “I’m sorry, MJ, I’ve just been so caught up-” 

“I know,” She gulped, letting herself be held by Peter as she rested her head on his chest. 

He seemed like he wanted to say something but it got stuck in his throat, never making its way out. Michelle would never know what he wanted to say. 

Six days later Peter had come crashing into the room, chest heaving and smile beaming. MJ had almost fallen out of her chair by the window at the sudden entrance, instead, she cursed at Peter and threw the knitting magazine at him. 

He dodged it easily, walking straight over to her and grabbing her wrist and dragging her to her feet. She followed, struggling to keep up with his pace and tripping over her feet slightly. Peter opened the door and Michelle winced at the bright white-blue light being emitted from the centre of the room. 

“I think I did it,” He smiled. “I had to make it bigger to-to you know, whatever it’s bigger.” 

Michelle stood with her back to the door as Peter walked over to the reactor and started fiddling with the device and wires while Peter rambled about physics and all sorts of shop talk that went straight over her head. 

He opened up the meter box and connected the reactor to the distribution board. He was nervous, his hands shaking slightly as he looked over everything before looking at Michelle. Peter pointed to the switch next to her, “Can you flip it?” 

“Are you sure this will work?” 

“It’ll work, it has to work, nothing will explode or anything if that’s what you’re worried about, flip it.” 

Hesitantly, she lifted up her arm to the light switch next to her, flipping the switch. Both of them held their breath for a couple of seconds before the lights in the room began to flicker, the familiar buzz of electricity running through the wires. 

The lights turned on and they stayed on. 

“Holy shit,” Michelle whispered, looking at Peter. 

Peter had been given a hero’s welcome that night, receiving a million pats on the back and a hundred hugs. Many had come up in tears and thanked him for all he’d done, to which Peter would blush and brush off the comments. 

Felicia had hugged him for longer than he was comfortable and kept a hand on his arm even as she’d pulled away. Peter just smiled politely and held the conversation with her, stealing glances at Michelle, who was sitting across the room of the cafeteria and watching.

Once the commotion had finally calmed down, Peter went to the table Michelle was at, offering her his hand. She raised a brow at him but he just smiled, nodding his head towards the floor space where people were dancing, a record playing loudly in the background. Reluctantly, she put her hand in his and let him take her there. 

He put his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. MJ placed her hands around his neck, her fingers brushing at the back. His thumbs pressed into her hips, and a smile twitched onto her face. 

“Peter? Do you remember when I said that the world needs you? I was right,” She said, tilting her head at him. 

“Remember when I said we could have music again? I was right,” Peter replied, smiling cheekily, causing her to narrow her eyes at him but smile back. 

MJ twisted her fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck as they swayed back and forth. Peter rested his chin and her shoulder, raising one hand up from her waist to brush all her hair to one side. 

Michelle spotted Felicia across the room with a slightly annoyed expression as she watched the two dance, MJ couldn’t stop the smug look that graced her face. 

Peter finally relaxed for a few days, enjoying the simple sound of music and Michelle reading. He enjoyed the feeling of Michelle sleeping with her head on his chest and her hands running through his hair. 

That’s how life continued, Peter went back to making new things to benefit the community and MJ went back to being a teacher, occasionally helping out in the kitchens. 

Michelle felt like she could finally breathe again when Peter showed up for every mealtime, finally taking all the food he needed without MJ forcing him too. 

However, all good things come to an end and three days before Christmas, which they could have Christmas lights and decorations for thanks to Peter. He had walked into the rec room where the whole group was, holding an old cigar box. 

Peter looked rather contemplative, his mouth downturned as he ran his fingers over the box gingerly. He tapped his fingers on the roof it, MJ was about to ask him what was up when Felicia, flirtatious as ever, beat her to it. 

“What up, big guy?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side as she fluttered her eyelashes. 

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows and looked up. “H.O?” 

“Harry Osborn, you know, the son of the guy who fucked the world up the ass,” Johnny replied, walking over and looking at the box before sighing. “Poor guy, I miss him.” 

“Why-why what happened to him?” Peter asked, his voice strained and frantic. 

“He helped get this place up and running, he was like you but you’re better. He got snatched up by some cars in this big car one day, we tried to help but you know- it was too late,” Johnny spoke quietly, sounding rather upset and Peter’s breath shuddered. 

“Is he- is he dead?” Peter stuttered, his voice shaking. 

MJ got up from her seat, making a B-line for Peter and putting a hand on his arm. “Peter-”

“No, I have to know, is he dead?” Peter had turned abrupt, demanding. 

“I-I don’t know, Peter, I’m sorry,” Johnny asked, retreating. 

“Why do you need to know so bad? It’s not like you knew him,” Ned shrugged, his brows furrowed. 

“I didn’t know him?” Peter scoffed, glaring in Ned’s direction. “I can tell you the exact contents of what’s probably in this box. First off, his dead mother’s diamond earrings. Second, the last birthday card his father ever gave him when he was nine, the cheap pen my dead uncle gave him, the recipe for the cookies my Aunt- dead Aunt, made every time he came over, which was every day by the way.” 

“Peter-” Michelle was almost begging him to stop taking menacing steps towards Ned, his finger pointed and accusatory. Peter ignored her and the hand on his arm. 

“Hell, there’s probably some drugs in here and finally, a photo of him and I on my 16th birthday where I’m holding him bridal style as he kisses my cheek that he had framed on his bedside table,” Peter finally stopped, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears that had fallen down his cheek. He looked down at the box before looking back up at Ned. “So don’t you dare tell me I didn’t know Harry fucking Osborn.” 

“I’m-I’m sorry Peter, I didn’t know,” Ned said quietly, while the rest of the group nodded, apologetic looks on their faces. 

Liz gulped before standing up from her armchair, “If it helps, the guys who took him were talking about Vancouver, how they needed his help there.” 

Peter looked at MJ, going stiff at the mention of Vancouver. Michelle was the same, the hand that was rubbing his back stopped in its tracks. Peter grabbed her hand and left the rec room, taking them both to their apartment. 

He put the box on the bed, opening it up and proving his assumptions correct. All the items he’d named were in there, other things made appearances too, including a joke letter Peter had written to him for their Spanish class. 

“I don’t know about you but- items only really became sentimental to me after the Calamity, except for Ben’s stuff but Harry- Harry always found  _ things _ important.” 

Peter sat down on the bed, looking over each and every item carefully, his fingers gently caressing the edges of everything. It was like he was committing them to memory, downloading them through his fingertips. 

Michelle sat next to him, looking but not touching, feeling as if she was invading both Harry and Peter’s privacy if she were to do so. She grabbed the photo of the two boys and popped open the photo frame on the bedside table. 

Discarding the picture of an elderly couple to the side, she replaced it with the photo of them and put it back on the bedside table. Michelle looked at the photo at laughed slightly, “Good to see your baby cheeks have gone.” 

Peter looked up at her and then the photo, smiling and shaking his head. Putting everything back in the box, he shut it and put it next to the photo. He bit the inside of his cheek and fiddled with his fingers. 

“Do you think I was an asshole to Ned?” His brows furrowed with disappointment. 

“Yeah,” Michelle shrugged. “But I get it, I’m sure he does too.” 

“Still, I feel really bad,” Peter replied, looking up at her. 

“Apologise next time you see him then,” She hummed, running a hand through his hair. 

Peter nodded, leaning into her touch. MJ could practically see the cogs turning in his head, his face contorted. She had a feeling about what he was going to say and she really, really, hoped it was wrong. 

“Do you think they took him to Vancouver because there really is a cure there?” 

“I don’t know, maybe they just heard the same rumour as us but like you said, if it was true why isn’t everyone cured by now?” MJ begged her voice to not sound as strained as she felt. 

Peter’s jaw clenched and his leg started jumping up and down rapidly. MJ willed him to stop. 

“I have to go, if he’s there- I- I have to go, MJ.” 

There it was. 

Michelle felt her heart drop into her stomach and her lungs leap into her throat. She looked away from him, pulling her hand away from his head. 

“Peter, I need you to be rational right now. I know you want to go after Harry but the truth is he’s probably been gone for months and again, you were right about the Japanese, if they had a cure, this would all be over but they don’t. We-we’re happy here, look at everything you’ve done for this place and everything you will do, the people here need you,” She chewed her lip and sighed at Peter’s heartbroken expression. 

“Em-” 

“Don’t  _ Em _ me,” She snapped, raising her brows at him. “You know what it’s like to be out there, cold, thirsty, starving,  _ alone _ . It’s not worth it, it’s not worth the risk and you promised me- you  _ promised _ \- you’d never leave me.” 

“Come with me then.” 

“Peter.”

The boy sighed, fiddling with his fingers as his bottom lip quivered. He tugged at the sleeves of his jumper and took a deep breath. Eventually, he nodded, wiping under his eyes and look at her. “You’re right, I was being stupid. I wouldn’t survive out there in the middle of winter anyway.” 

Michelle grabbed the back of his head and he let it fall onto her shoulder, closing his eyes as she traced circles into his scalp. Peter shuffled in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist as they lay down onto the bed. 

“I just really miss him,” He whispered, his breath fanning over her shoulder. 

“I know you do,” She replied, leaning her cheek on the top of his head. 

She really did and it became even more evident over the next few days. Michelle caught him staring at the picture all too often and she’d found him re-reading the letters from the box, especially the handwritten cookie recipe from his Aunt. 

He’d also starting attempting to drown himself in work but MJ would always drag him out of the water before he could get stuck in a rip and taken out to sea. 

Peter had been slightly more cheerful on Christmas Eve, finally joining the group in the rec room for the first time since he’d yelled at Ned. 

He’d immediately apologised to Ned and to everyone, who were all incredibly understanding. Peter felt like he could breathe again after that. 

Johnny had brought some of the aged whiskey he had found in one of the cabinets in his apartment, claiming to have been saving it for a special occasion. 

So with whiskey in his system and the fire roaring, Peter felt warm again. 

There was a gentle jazz record playing in the background as Peter spun MJ around the room with a dopey grin. Even MJ was smiling widely, resting her head on his shoulder every time he brought her back into him. 

Hell, he’d even danced with Felicia and MJ had distracted herself by burning the back of her throat with whiskey. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice the way he smiled down at her and accidentally called her Gwen. 

Still, he always went back to MJ, always MJ. 

They’d gone to bed that night with her head lolling onto Peter’s shoulder, his arm around her waist as he supported most of her weight as they walked. 

She flopped onto the bed and laughed, almost giggled, as she bounced on the mattress. Peter smiled, taking her shoes and pants off for her because she was too sloppy to do it herself. He did the same for himself, taking his shirt off too before covering them both with the duvet. 

MJ snuggled into him, letting his hand smooth over her unruly curls as she maneuvered her head onto his chest. Her own arms wrapped around his waist and she traced lines into his skin, fighting to keep her eyes open. 

“Promise?” She whispered, grabbing his hand. 

“Promise.” He replied, squeezing hers. 

They woke up late the next morning, Michelle with a slight headache. Peter was up before her, dressed and fiddling with one of his web-shooters. He placed a pain killer in her palm and handed her a cup of water, giving her a cheeky smile. 

“Morning, drunkard,” He smiled, laughing. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, loser,” She scowled, rolling her eyes and chasing the pill with water. “And I wasn’t even drunk.” 

“From the way your feet dragged along the hall when we walked back last night, I beg to differ.” 

“Okay, Mr ‘I Got Drunk The First Night I Met Michelle,’” She narrowed her eyes at him and he shook his head, smiling to himself. 

Peter walked over to the bed and pulled her out and to her feet. She shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around her body, finding a pair of jeans to tug on. He threw her her shoes and stood by the doorway, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. 

Breakfast was just winding down when they got there, however, their group of friends were still there and waiting for them. 

They grabbed a bowl each before taking a seat at the table, exchanging celebratory greetings. Felicia shoved a cup of hot cocoa in front of both of them, “Someone in the kitchen dug cocoa powder out, it’s a Godsend.” 

Peter thanked her and sipped it, sighing into the mug. 

Like every morning, Peter and Michelle let the conversation happen around them, only giving input when specifically addressed. Peter hooked his foot around Michelle’s ankle and in turn, she downed the rest of her cup in an attempt to hide her blushing face. 

When they were finished, Ned forced them outside, waving a carrot around demanding that they build the biggest snowman they could. 

Peter followed, helping as much as he could but had to stop after the already insufficient clothing no longer kept any heat in. He apologised profusely, not that any of the group particularly cared although, Johnny was curious. 

“Dude, we’re both wearing the same thing, jeans and a long-sleeved shirt but I’m doing just fine, why are you shivering like someone forced you into an ice bath in the middle of Antarctica?” He queried, leaning on the half-built snowman.

“I can’t thermoregulate,” Peter replied, wrapping his arms around his torso. 

“Why not?” 

“Because spiders can’t,” 

Johnny furrowed his brows and shrugged. “Okay? What have spiders got anything to do with you?” 

“Uh, I was bitten by one when I was 14?” 

“So was I but clearly I’m doing just fine.” 

“Mine was radioactive.” 

“Peter,” Michelle called from behind the snowman, an amused smirk on her face. “You’ve never told them you’re Spider-Man.” 

“You’re who?!” Ned piped up, his face pale and jaw dropped. 

“Surprise?” Peter scrunched up his face and shrugged again at his friend's astonished faces. “Anyway, I’m really cold so I’m going to go inside now.” 

Michelle watched him leave and seemed to have some kind of internal debate before beginning to follow his footsteps. She didn’t make it very far before Felicia grabbed her arm. Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned to the blonde girl she held a certain distaste for due to no apparent reason and raised her brows. 

“Can you just tell Peter you like him already so he can say it back and I can stop being desperate?” Felicia quirked, tilting her head to the side as MJ was taken aback. 

“Come again?” 

“You two are so painfully obvious yet oblivious at the same time like please, if you two don’t get together soon I seriously- I don’t know what I’ll do, combust or something,” She grumbled, rolling her eyes and smirking at Michelle’s blushing cheeks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but I don’t like Peter,” MJ scoffed. “We’re just really close because we were the only person the other had for a long time.” 

“That’s exactly why you two are in love with each other so I swear to God, if Peter wanted to get with me by now he would’ve but he doesn’t because he wants you, do something about it,” Felicia smiled at her before going back to the snowman, grabbing sticks from the ground and shoving them into the side as arms. 

MJ cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair before going inside. Peter wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, so she went up to their room and found him bundling himself up in more clothes and a blanket. 

“Hey,” She smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Hi,” Peter smiled back and pulled the blanket tighter and sat next to her. 

MJ gulped, chewing on her bottom lip and fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Peter looked at her with furrowed brows, glancing at her nervous fidgeting before looking at her face. “What’s wrong? Your heart is beating really fast.” 

_ Curse his super hearing _ .

“Yeah,” She nodded before deadpanning. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno,” Peter smiled. “You tell me.” 

Michelle rolled her eyes before standing up and walking over to the kitchenette in the room, pulling out a tin from one of the cupboards. She made her way back over to the bed and handed him the tin as she sat down. 

“Merry Christmas,” She said, smiling gently as he took the tin from her. 

She could tell from the look on his face that he already knew what was in the tin; if he could tell from the smell or just from the tin, she didn’t know. He looked up at her, his eyes soft as he took the lid off. 

“MJ-” 

“I’m sorry if you didn’t want me going through Harry’s stuff but you know, I just thought-” 

Peter cut her off by hugging her, the tin of May’s cookies discarded on the spot next to him. He rested his head on her shoulder, her curls tickling his nose. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, rubbing circles into her back. MJ melted into his touch, leaning her head onto his and letting her eyes fall closed. 

“Thank you, MJ, I love it,” He whispered, his hot breath fanning onto her skin and sending goosebumps up her spine. “I have something for you too.” 

Reluctantly, he pulled away from the hug and dug through his pockets. He pulled out a chain and for a split second Michelle’s heart dropped, thinking that he was about to hand over the wedding rings he always wore around his neck. 

But it wasn’t. Rather, at the end of the chain was a raw amethyst, the purple crystal swinging back and forth in the air. He piled the necklace up in his palm and extended it out to her, tipping it into her cupped hands. 

She thumbed over the crystal as Peter cupped her hands, still yet to have made eye contact with her. He gulped, twisting his lips and clearing his throat. 

“May used to wear this all the time,” Peter finally said, his voice quiet. “It was given to her by Ben on their fifth wedding anniversary or something, she was super into crystals and-and meditation and that kind of stuff. Our whole apartment had crystals covering, like, every surface and it also meant she was easy to shop for,” He laughed slightly. “Amethyst's are supposed to um, well, according to May, when it’s on a necklace like this, it’s close to your heart so it opens you up, opens your heart up and it offers you wisdom and protection. Now that I think about it, Ben probably gave it to May for the same reasons I’m giving it to you.” 

“Was May heartless and stone-cold too?” She joked, tilting her head at a smiling Peter. 

“I don’t think you’re heartless, MJ. If you were, you would’ve left me in that house when I told you too but you didn’t, you saved my life, MJ,” Peter finally looked up at her. “I know you’re- closed off but I think that might be because you’re  _ not _ heartless, you’re scared of getting hurt so you shut people out. So I- yeah you remind me of May because you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re so fucking kind and you don’t even know it.” 

Michelle stayed quiet, letting Peter take the necklace back and undo it, reaching around the back of her neck to do it up. His brows were furrowed with concentration as he did the clip up and he leaned further into her body. 

His hands rested on her shoulders as the cold metal finally fell on the skin at the back of her neck. Peter looked at the necklace sitting in the middle of her chest before looking up at her, brushing her hair out of her face and exposing her red cheeks. 

“It suits you-” 

Peter never got to finish his sentence because MJ was pressing her lips against his. His heart leapt into his throat and the hand that was still on her shoulder tightened its grip. Michelle pulled away as quickly as she had arrived, staring at him with wide eyes and shuffling further down the bed. 

“I-I’m so- I’m so sorry, I sh-shouldn’t have done that,” Michelle stuttered, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact. “I’ve never even kissed anyone before that was so stupid, I’m so stupid.” 

Peter followed her, not letting her increase the distance between them. He shook his head and gently grabbed her wrist, making her look up at him quickly before she chewed on her lip and looked away. 

This time he cut his own speech off, opening his mouth to say something but instead just tilted her chin up before kissing her again. MJ was frozen, unsure of what to do as well as being shocked by the fact that Peter was kissing her. 

His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek as he listened to her swift heartbeat and halted breathing. He pulled away for a couple of seconds, letting her relax before kissing her again. 

Her lips hesitantly moved against his, entirely unsure of what she was actually doing. Peter ran a hand down her stiff arm and moved it onto his waist, letting her know that it was okay to touch him. 

Eventually, when she was physically more relaxed, Peter parted her lips with his own and deepened the kiss. Her breathing hitched and Peter seemed to pause for a moment before continuing, pulling her closer. 

The kiss was slow, gentle, expressing everything they’d both been wanting to say. Every few minutes they broke apart, their breath mingling as they pulled as much air into their lungs as possible before diving back in. 

Peter lay MJ down on the bed, holding himself up on his elbow next to her head as his other hand began to run up and down her side. As he did so, Michelle started to kiss him with more ardour, to which Peter complied with eagerly. 

His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, pressing into the skin on her hip. MJ shivered slightly under his touch and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly. 

He hummed into her mouth, pulling away reluctantly, planting a series of pecks on her lips before resting his forehead on hers. Michelle blushed at the sight of Peter’s swollen and red lips, pushing his hair out of his face. 

Peter smiled widely, leaning down and pressing a kiss to both of her cheeks before also kissing her forehead and chin. He rolled off her, laying next to her on the bed with their sides slotting into each other. 

“Symmetry, nice,” MJ mumbled, turning her head to look at him. 

He didn’t reply, only swept her into his arms and pulled her into his chest. Peter pressed kisses into her hair as she buried her head into his neck. His hand ran through her curls gently, working out the occasional knot slowly, as to not hurt her. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really, really long time,” Peter whispered into her head. 

“Y-yeah, I guess I did too.” 

“You guess?” Peter feigned dejection but the amusement was clear in his voice. “If I recall, you kissed me first.” 

“Yeah because you weren’t going to,” She replied, rolling her eyes. 

“Well I didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me so how was I supposed to know?” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me either but I still did it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, everyone knows you’re ten times braver than me anyway.” 

“No it’s not,” She replied with narrowed eyes. “You’re Spider-Man.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m brave,” He whispered and grabbed the tin of cookies, grabbing two out and shoving one into her mouth. 

MJ growled in protest but chewed the food anyway, watching Peter’s blissful face as he ate the cookie. His eyes were closed and a small smile graced his features, lost in his own nostalgia. She smiled at the sight, continuing to watch as he ate over half the tin. 

He finally finished and clamped the lid back on, putting it on the ground next to the bed. Peter turned on his side to look at MJ and smiled at her, speaking quietly as he grabbed one of her hands. “Nap before dinner?” 

Michelle nodded and they both settled in, relishing in the warmth of each other's arms. 

MJ woke them both up in time for dinner, both of them going down and enjoying chicken for the first time in months. Peter wasn’t sure where exactly the large amount of meat had come from but he wasn’t about to question it. He assumed that there must be a chicken coop out on the property somewhere and he was perfectly content with that. 

Peter and MJ sat next to each other during the meal, rather than across from each other like they usually did. No one except Felicia had noticed, who gave a knowing smirk to MJ as she sat down in front of them. 

Peter was extra talkative during the meal, maybe because of the bottle of wine Peggy had put down on their table with a smile and the wish of a Merry Christmas but no matter what, it was nice to see him relaxed for once. 

As annoying as she had initially found him, Michelle had missed the Peter Parker that took a Chinese lucky cat simply because he wanted it even though it took up far too much space in his bag at the time. 

Even MJ was slightly chattier than normal, snarky remarks being tossed around like nobody’s business. Peter had placed a hand on her leg, it’s presence all too obvious to her. His touch had always sent electricity up her spine, shivers all over her body. 

They must have sat at that table and talked for hours as cheesy Christmas music playing in the background. Before they knew it, people were starting to yawn and the music had stopped long ago. The whole place was eerily empty and the fire wasn’t far from being nothing more than embers. 

When the group had left and Felicia pushed them down the hall with wishes of a good fuck and no pregnancy, MJ decided it was definitely time for bed. 

Peter was in bed before her, stripping himself down to his usual bed attire and burying his head into the pillow. Michelle joined him moments later and she couldn’t help but notice the solemn attitude he’d suddenly gained. 

The smile on his face was no longer, replaced with downturned lips and shining eyes. He was focused on the photo of him and Harry, taking a deep breath before shifting his attention to MJ. She gave him an awkward smile as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. 

She pressed a small kiss into his skin, leaning her forehead on his collarbone and breathing in his scent. Carefully, she ran a hand up his torso, enjoying the feeling of his no longer skin-and-bones body. 

Peter kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on top. 

“Goodnight, Em.” 

“Night, Peter.” 

Michelle woke up the next morning alone in bed. Frowning, she sat up, glancing at the spot next to her and the neatly made half. Peter never made the bed. The photo frame on the bedside table was gone and in place sat a piece of paper with the wedding rings sitting on top. 

With her heart in her throat, she reached over and gripped the piece of paper, letting the rings slide off. She grit her teeth, trying to push back all the thoughts telling her that she knew this was always going to happen. Ever since Peter had found that box, she’d worried about it but ignored it, he’d promised after all. 

She took a deep breath and started reading. 

_ ‘MJ,  _

_ I’m sorry, I know you hate me right now, I know I broke a promise. I was going to keep it, I swear but after finding out Harry was here, I knew I had to go.  _

_ He was here and I could bring him back. I thought he was dead, gone, I thought I was never going to see him again and now that there’s a possibility he’s still alive, I can’t stay here and do nothing.  _

_ I have a cure, I followed the formula he sent me. I’ve got no idea if it works but if he’s infected, I owe it to him to at least try. I couldn’t save May, I didn’t have a cure and the only way I could’ve survived was to kill her. If it weren’t for my senses taking over my body, I probably would’ve let her kill me.  _

_ I’m coming back, I promise - for real - that I’m coming back. I can’t leave you. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to take you with me but I couldn’t, it’s too dangerous. I know you can look after yourself but I can get to Vancouver in less than a week if I swing. I’ll be back before you know it, hopefully with Harry by my side.  _

_ He’s gonna love you, MJ. I have a feeling you’ll like him, you remind me of him in the same way you remind me of May. Except you don’t remind me of May because kissing May would be weird but kissing you isn’t weird, it’s really nice. It feels right. _

_ You’re the most important person in my life now and if anything ever happened to you I don’t know what I’d do.  _

_ This is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done but I need Harry and I need you, so this was the only way I could think of to have both.  _

_ I did this for me but I’m also doing it for us, all for us. _

_ Peter.’  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so not sure how to feel about this chapter - it's - yeah. maybe not my best work because i feel like it's jumpy, doesn't work with the story, kind of rushed but also the community isn't all that important i mean it kind of is but it isn't im just giving you and petermj hope just to crush it again. sorry not sorry. it's kind of a filler but it's not a filler, like i said, i don't know how to feel about this chapter.   
> I saw someone say something about bucky and peggy last chapter and no, they aren't important whatsoever they just fit the roles i needed, anyway. you'll probably never see those two again  
> as always feedback is appreciated just don't be a twat.   
> thanks for reading and now i have four essays to write.   
> twitter: @ rueshewitt


	7. doin time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to an over use of this thing ; i forget the name of because who cares about english and i probably used it wrong but it's for looks

Leaving the day after Christmas and in the middle of winter probably wasn’t the best idea. Not only did he loathe himself for leaving MJ, but he’d also been hating himself for days before he even left, he just had to kiss her before he left. Kissing her had been the worst mistake he’d made in months, not the kiss itself but the timing. 

It’d made leaving her all the worse, his heart ached harder with every thwip of his web as he swung through the city centre of Kelowna. Two and a half days in and he assumed another two or three to go and he felt ready to drop dead. He was freezing, always hungry even with his increased food supply, thirsty and hell, he really, really missed MJ. 

He’d gotten used to having someone to talk to, to touch, to just be around. The newfound silence was deafening and it didn’t do anything to stop his lingering thoughts. He tried to focus on Harry, saving Harry, helping Harry but it was no use. Michelle was the Mona Lisa in the Lourve of Peter’s mind. 

This was a foreign feeling, one not even Gwen had inspired in him. He’d go so far as to say he loved Gwen but MJ had taken one look and ripped it into shreds, rewriting the chapter herself. It scared him in the same way horror movies did, no matter how badly he wanted to look he couldn’t. 

Every few hours he’d press a hand to his chest, expecting to feel the smooth metal of May and Ben’s wedding rings on his skin to no avail. It would only remind him of how they were gone and how he’d left them to MJ, how she was no longer with him anymore. That was his own fault. 

The number of times he’d almost burst into tears while swinging was embarrassing. It made him feel pathetic and knowing that the source of his problems was his own actions made it worse. Knowing that he’d upset MJ was the worst part but it was the thing that propelled him through his screaming muscles. The faster he could get to Harry and then back to MJ the better. 

Believing Harry was alive was wishful thinking. He knew it was unrealistic but it gave him hope, hope for a better life than what they were living right now. Hope was the only thing he really had to hold onto, even if it was on shaky grounds. 

Peter was almost certain that he would’ve been taken by Oscorp and that meant bad news. Norman Osborn was heartless but he wouldn’t kill his own son. However, that’s not to say he wouldn’t manipulate and turn Harry against himself, to use him for Norman’s own selfish gain. 

It was twisted but that was Peter’s main argument against Harry’s death and maybe he should’ve gone over it with MJ first but it was too late for that. 

He woke up late but rested on the third day and stayed on the move far into the night until he reached more forest and was too exhausted to guess which branches would hold him up. Branches had already snapped on him and he was trying to avoid falling again as much as possible. 

On the fourth day, he reached Vancouver and felt like he was going to throw up. The sign that welcomed him into the city had been defaced, a red arrow pointing to the left covering the whole thing. The sign behind it was one of those tacky tourist ones, with signs pointing to various locations worldwide, Hong Kong and Thailand included. However, all the vinyl lettering had been pulled off, the faded colour of the metal contrasting with that that had been hidden was the only reason he could read the sign. 

There was one, however, pointing to a place called Richmond, only 27.6 kilometres away. It was also pointing to the left. If this was some kind of code, it was a very bad one because Peter found a map in an information centre which very clearly stated that the Steveston Harbour was Canada’s largest fishing harbour and a worldwide tourist attraction. Peter had never heard of it but sure. 

His heart raced as he followed the map to Richmond, every sign with the cities name on it had been defaced to make it pretty obvious it was an important location someone was trying to keep ‘hidden.’ 

He dropped to the pavement once the buildings turned to homes clearly built to fit the aesthetic of a small seaside town. His feet crunched under the freshly fallen snow, shivering and trying his best to bury himself into his clothing. 

The prickling in the back of his neck was constant, a small buzz that flowed up his spine. His senses were going haywire and every little sound sent him reeling. Just the wind whistling through a cracked open window made him fire a redundant web. 

Steveston Harbour was in a sight, a large sign introducing ‘The Fishermans Wharf’ guiding him through the town. For a harbour that supposedly had a cure, it wasn’t all that busy and something told him that the small number of boats tied at the dock hadn’t been moved since the Calamity. 

Peter couldn’t help but feel slightly hopeless but his senses were going off and even though it meant bad news, it meant there was  _ something _ . The closer he crept to the harbour the more his gut tried to warn him to turn around and leave. 

The line of houses stopped and Peter took one step into the empty land when his body spun him around and ducked, the butt of a gun whizzing through the air where his head would’ve been. 

He flipped backwards and away from his attacker putting a fair amount of distance between them before firing a web at the gun, pulling it towards himself. The person froze at the sight of Peter’s face, his eyes going wide as the only thing left uncovered in his head-to-toe tactile suit. 

The first thing that ran through Peter’s head was that he must be warm. 

Peter pointed the gun at them, reversing the roles, not letting his body show any signs of the nerves coursing through his veins. 

“Peter,” The voice hissed as if they were trying not to be heard by anyone except Peter. Their eyes darted around before he gestured up to the camera that sat on top of the helmet he wore. He then made a gesture by his side that resembled that of Spider-Man’s signature hand sign. 

Peter gulped, uneasy with the fact they knew his name but he obliged, firing a web at the camera and pulling it to the ground where he promptly crushed it under his foot. Still, he kept the military-grade gun poised, finger on the trigger. 

The balaclava that covered their face was pulled off and Peter immediately dropped the gun, his jaw following suit. He forced his frozen body to move towards the boy, using every ounce of energy he had before flinging his arms around him. 

Harry hugged back, squeezing Peter tightly in his grip and burying his head into his neck. Peter muttered profanities into Harry’s shoulder, tears filling his eyes as he tugged at his jacket. “I thought you were dead but-but then-” 

“I thought you were dead, too, I didn’t- dad wouldn’t let me leave, I couldn’t-” 

“They told me you were taken- they-they- I found your box.” Peter reluctantly pulled out of the hug and pulled his bag around to the front of his body, fishing out the box and holding it out to him, sniffing. “They didn’t know I knew you and-and- God, Harry I found this and I knew I had to find you, I knew you wouldn’t be dead- I knew you wouldn’t be.” 

“You found them? The community? With Peggy and Bucky and Steve and Johnny and-” 

“Liz, Ned, Felicia, yes,” He nodded vigorously. “MJ and I, we- I was sick and she- we walked for weeks before we found them- I was by myself and then I met her and we- we’ve been living there and they have electricity-” 

“How? How do they have electricity?” Harry but in, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. 

“I made an arc reactor.” 

“Of course you did,” He laughed, bringing Peter in for another hug. “Of course I spend forever trying to theorise one and you just pull one out of your ass, huh?” 

Peter smiled, “I thought you knew I was smarter than you.” 

“Shut up, dude,” Harry laughed again, flicking the side of his head. The two stood in each other's arms for a while before Harry spoke up again. “I can’t believe you wound up in the same place as me that’s so-” 

“MJ heard a rumour that the Japanese had a cure and they were taking people to safe places but we found that community and stayed there because it was the middle of winter and well, you know I don’t do well in normal circumstances,” Peter supplied, pulling out of the hug again. “So we stayed but then I found your stuff and they told me about you and I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay there. You- You’re the only thing of my old life I had left- besides MJ but she doesn’t really count because- anyway, I had to leave.” 

“Peter,” Harry sighed. “I have to- They’re working on improving the formula, to make it work for everyone. You have to get out of here.” 

“Only if you’re coming with me,” Peter furrowed his brows. 

Harry shook his head and Peter frowned. “I can’t, Peter, I can’t. They’ll find me, dad planted a tracker in me when they found me, it’s  _ in _ me.” 

“Ok, we can Katniss it, dig that shit out,” Peter pulled out his pocket knife, gesturing to Harry’s arm. 

“It’s in my spine or some bullshit, he said it can’t be taken out unless I want to be paralysed,” He sighed, pursing his lips before looking Peter up and down. “I can’t go with you, Pete,” 

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself and digging his foot in the snow. “We’ll figure something out, Harry, I’ll fix it. I can fix this- just- please you have to come with me.” 

Harry shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as tears built up in his eyes. He swallowed, looking up at Peter with a quivering bottom lip. “I want to- I do but I can’t. Peter, I can’t. We’ll both be killed.” 

“I can’t just leave you here, I left you once, I can’t do it again,” He replied, tugging at Harry’s arm. “If you won’t come with me now then I’m staying here until we can get you out safely, they know I broke your camera now- fake arrest me or something.” 

Harry looked down at him, shaking his head again, “I can’t do that to you, my dad- you know him. I can’t do it, Peter.” 

Peter picked up the dropped gun, shoving it back into Harry’s grasp before placing his hands behind his back. “I’m serious, Harry, take me there and we can take them down from the inside. It’ll be like old times,” He smiled nostalgically, reminding him of when the two used to work together on missions, Harry often using inside knowledge due to the status of the Osborn family. “I promise you, we’ll get out of there.” 

“Peter-” 

“I’m literally Spider-Man,” Peter smirked cockily, shrugging as Harry cracked a smile. 

The taller boy sighed, “Alright, fine but I swear to God, you’re getting out of there as soon as possible, with or without me if it all goes to shit.” 

“It won’t, dude.” 

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek, rocking back on his feet slightly. “Ok well, it’s like a fifteen-minute walk so you don’t have to pretend to be a prisoner just yet, now tell me about MJ.” 

“What?” Peter blushed slightly as they started to walk side-by-side. 

“Oh come on, you mentioned her name like six times and every time you did you got the look on your face you used to have when you talked about Gwen,” Harry teased, his voice quiet and feigning happiness. 

“Shut up,” He laughed slightly and blushed harder, running a hand through his hair. 

“There it is again!” 

“Alright, Jesus,” Peter grumbled. “You know um- the girl who called you a cockalorum when you were talking about meeting Tony Stark in gym class last year? Then we had to google what it meant and you were really pissed off about it for like three days?” 

“Michelle? Isn’t that her name?” 

“Well, yeah, last name Jones, MJ,” Peter shrugged, kicking up snow. “We ran into each other in Canada and just stuck together from there, I’d literally be dead without her.” 

“Guess I’ll have to meet her and say thank you then, hm?” Harry mused, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. 

Peter simply smiled, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since he left. Seeing Harry again didn’t feel real. Peter could swear he was dreaming but no, Harry was right next to him, touching him, talking to him. 

The last memory he had of Harry wasn’t bad per se, but it left a slightly awkward air around the two of them. Especially when the topic of Michelle was brought up. It almost didn’t matter, considering it had happened so long ago but seeing Harry had spurred everything back into the forefront of his mind. 

It was the night before the Calamity, Peter had been on patrol while Harry was at a party as per usual. Peter got a text at around two am and he arrived at the given address to walk Harry home (and to stay the night; again, as per usual.) 

“I heard some fucked up shit this morning, dude,” Harry slurred as he stumbled down the street. 

“This morning? When? Was it Gwen talking about Betty with Flash because yeah that was pretty fucked up,” Peter replied, walking slightly behind Harry. 

“No, dude,” Harry stopped, turning to look at Peter with wide, serious eyes. “Something like, really fucked up, something that will change everything, literally everything and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” 

Peter furrowed his brows, tilting his head before humming in realisation. “Have you been watching The 100 again? You always get all existential when you watch it.” 

Harry put his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them slightly. “Peter, I’m not kidding. We could literally be dead tomorrow.” 

He rolled his eyes, continuing to walk down the pavement, Harry having to pick up his pace to keep up. Harry huffed from beside him, folding his arms over his chest. “I should’ve done molly instead of drinking.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have, Harry.” 

“Well, then I’d be happy, not- whatever the fuck this is. I just wanted to forget what I heard but now it’s all I can think about, I just want to forget, Petey.” 

“Forget what, Harry? You know how we talked about seeing a thera-” 

“Peter,” Harry growled, tugging on his friend's arm so that he faced him, their faces illuminated by the neon signs of the arcade they stood in front of. “I’m serious, we could die tomorrow and it’s my own fucking fault and I couldn’t give two shits anymore. Hence, why I probably killed my liver tonight from all the shit I’ve taken and Petey…” He sighed, taking a step towards Peter and cupping his face. “I didn’t wanna fuck anything up but everything is already so fucked up so what's one more thing? I fucking love you, dude.” 

“Yeah, I love you too, Haz,” Peter furrowed his brow, gripping on of Harry’s wrists. “Now let’s get home so you can-” 

“No, I  _ love _ you, I fucking love you.” 

“Harry-” 

Peter was cut off by chapped, intoxicated lips being placed on his own. His eyes became the size of dinner plates as he sucked in a sharp breath, pulling his face away from the taller boy’s. Harry’s hands stayed cupping Peter’s face, lips parted as Peter gaped at him. 

“You’re drunk,” Peter laughed awkwardly, trying to move away from Harry but the boy shook his head in response. 

“Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t lying,” Harry breathed, leaning back down until their lips brushed. “I didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship because I can’t lose you and you had Gwen but I love you.” 

Harry kissed him again and to his own surprise, Peter relaxed the slightest and found himself kissing back for a split second. He jumped away when he tasted vodka on his tongue, turning his head to the side and looking at the ground. 

“C’mon dude lets get you home,” Peter muttered, walking down the street again after pulling out of Harry’s grasp. 

They walked in silence to Oscorp tower, Peter having to wrap an arm around Harry’s side to help him walk. Harry was muttering apologies in his ear, still rattling on about how something terrible was going to happen the next day and honestly, it scared Peter. The more Harry talked about the more he began to think it was true, an existential dread forming a pit in his stomach. 

He tried a couple of times to coax more details out of his best friend - well, that was up for debate now - but to no avail. Harry only stated that he didn’t really understand it, that he didn’t know enough to even try to do anything about it. No matter how much Peter said he could help, Harry didn’t believe him. 

Peter helped Harry into his room, opening the door pushing him towards the bed. Harry dragged Peter down with him, the shorter boy landing with a small grunt. 

“You should go to sleep and we can talk about this in the morning, okay?” Peter whispered, gulping slightly and their close proximity. 

“Talk about what? How my dad is going to kill everyone or how I kissed you and then you kissed me back?” Harry slurred, rolling onto his side to face Peter. 

“Harry, listen, I can’t- I can’t do this to Gwen.” 

“Do what? You two haven’t even made anything official, why is that, Peter? What are you scared of? Is the only reason you can’t do this because of Gwen because honestly, Petey, you kissed me back and your decision making isn’t compromised in the same way mine is.” 

Peter gulped, his eyes flickering from Harry’s to the window to the ceiling and back again. He wrapped his arms around himself, curling into the fabric of his hoodie and furrowing his brows. “I-I-I haven’t thought about you- this before. I don’t- I’ve never really looked at guys the same way I do girls but you- it feels different because I know you and I’m just a bit confused right now.” 

“Yeah, I understand,” Harry replied. “I haven’t really thought about it either, I just know that you’re you and I love you and you’re- you’re one of the only good things I’ve got going in my life, Pete. No matter if shit goes down tomorrow or not, I’m not letting you slip through my fingers.” 

“Stop referencing ABBA,” Peter laughed quietly, both lightening the situation and avoiding the topic. 

“It’s my only personality trait you know that,” Harry smiled. “Alexa, play Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA, no, wait, Amanda Seyfried.” 

Peter rolled his eyes as the song started playing, fiddling with his sleeves as he listened to the lyrics of the song. Harry had his eyes shut as he hummed along to the song, sometimes mumbling the lyrics. 

Peter bit his tongue, watching his  _ best friend _ basically ask him if he loved him. He couldn’t help but think it was all rather coming of age movie-like. If Harry was right and if things were going to turn to shit tomorrow then what was the harm in giving in. If the world wasn’t ending then, well, that was a problem for another day. 

With a deep breath, he kissed Harry, slinging an arm over his waist as Harry smiled against his lips. The cupping of Peter’s jaw seemed to encourage him to stop being so coy and the hand he’d put on Harry’s waist gripped at his clothing, pulling at it slightly as he deepened the kiss. 

And if a lump formed in both their throats and their hearts leapt into their mouths, passing them between each other, that was nobodies business but theirs. 

  
  
  


Harry held a loose grip on Peter’s wrist behind his back and after much convincing on Peter’s part, held the gun up to the boy’s chin. He kicked open the door, startling the people dotted around inside who after the initial shock, continued their duties as normal. 

He walked Peter through the building until he reached a door that made Peter turn stiff. Kicking that one open too, Harry pushed Peter just the tiniest bit for effect. Peter forced himself to stumble slightly, gulping as he made eye contact with Norman Osborn. 

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that Peter Parker?” The older man quirked his brow, standing up from the desk he sat behind. 

“I found him heading towards the wharf,” Harry supplied, gulping. Peter was glad that only he could hear his racing heart otherwise they’d be screwed. 

“Well, he looks awfully cold and is probably hungry, let him go, Harry,” Norman gestures down to the seat on the other side of the desk. “Sit, Peter.” 

Peter glanced at Harry before taking a seat, shifting uncomfortably under Norman Osborn’s gaze. 

“What were you doing at the wharf?” 

“I heard the Japanese had a cure for- whatever happened, I came to- to see.” 

“Well they did but you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” A sardonic smile. “How’d you get here?” 

Peter shrugged, “You can cover a large amount of distance in eleven months.” 

“Yes, I suppose you can,” His laugh sent shivers up Peter’s spine. “I have a proposition for you, stay here, work for me, I know how intelligent you are. In exchange, we’ll supply you with food, water, clothes, a bed. You’ll be safe here.” 

Peter chewed on his lip, briefly thinking about Michelle and how he was supposed to be back in a couple of weeks. He gripped the arm of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he ran over the thought in his mind. However, he knew his fate was already decided for him. 

“You’re not giving me a choice, are you?” 

“No, not really,” He replied, his voice cold. “You could choose to leave of course but then I’d have to kill you.” 

Peter heard Harry choke behind him and he had to use all his strength not to turn around and tell him everything would be fine. He nodded, reluctantly shaking Norman’s outstretched hand and cringed at the clammy palms. 

“Welcome to Oscorp, Peter, I always knew we’d get you eventually.” 

_________________________________

Michelle was undeniably, vehemently angry. 

But not before crying in their bed. She didn’t want to, she really didn’t want to. She didn’t like crying in any circumstance but now it was over Peter and she felt ridiculous. It was the fact that Peter knew he was leaving when he’d kissed her, yet she knew it was coming. 

Michelle knew the second Peter opened that box he’d made up his mind. She’d tried to prepare herself for it but he’d promised. MJ had been trying this new thing where she trusted people, specifically Peter. 

After all, without him she’d be dead, how could she not trust him? He’d proved himself time and time again to care about her, to support her when she needed it. Peter was the only constant in her life as of recent and he was just that, constant. 

Now, he was gone. Peter had just up and left without a second thought, without saying goodbye properly, without even asking her if she wanted to come. Honestly, she would’ve said yes, just to give her some peace of mind. 

As much as she wanted to tell herself she didn’t need Peter, she didn’t need anyone, she did. She just needed him to be around, to be there to talk to, to be there for her. She’d already lost so much and she’d managed to convince herself she would never lose Peter. 

She was wrong. 

After reading the letter, she lay her head back down and closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time Peter had been Peter. 

It was on the outskirts of Winnipeg, the city was thinned out and now there was only the occasional neighbourhood they passed through. It was a nice day, the sun was warm and they’d both taken their jackets off and tied them around their waists. 

Peter was humming to himself, Michelle walking a few feet behind him, counting the cracks in the concrete. She looked up when he gasped, a boyish grin crossing his face as he pointed across the road. Following his hand, she rolled her eyes and continued to walk. 

“You can not tell me you don’t want to check it out,” Peter huffed, tugging on her arm. 

“I don’t want to check it out, we need to keep moving,” She replied, pulling herself out of his hold. 

“Michelle-” Peter sighed but moved towards the park anyway. 

Michelle halted and watched him go, gripping the straps of her backpack and tapping her foot rapidly before crossing the street anyway and making her way through the gate of the abandoned skate park. 

Peter’s bag was already discarded on the concrete carelessly along with all the layers he’d been wearing, meaning he only had on a t-shirt and jeans now. Michelle cringed at the thought of him scrapping his elbows on the concrete. 

Looking down into the bowl, she saw Peter at the bottom collecting a stray skateboard. Michelle tried not to let herself look impressed when he jumped up the side and landed in front of her with minimal effort. 

“You ever skated?” He smiled, waving the board. Michelle shook her head, maintaining her bored expression as he dropped it to the ground, putting one foot on it and rolling it back and forth. “Want to?” 

“No, and you shouldn’t either, we have to go,” She grunted, watching with annoyance as he propelled himself forward, beginning to skate on the flat ground around the edge of the bowl. 

There were a couple of moments when he wavered, having to stick his arms out for balance when he got to close to the lip. Peter always remained on the board, shooting her a cheeky grin every time he floundered. Michelle could’ve sworn her heart stopped every time he hit a bump. 

“I haven’t skated in so long, I use to do it all the time. Usually, Harry was getting baked but I don’t like how it makes me feel that much so,” Peter shrugged, attempting a trick Michelle didn’t know the name of. “Like- at least once or twice a week we’d go to the skate park.” 

“I’ve never seen the appeal,” Michelle replied, sitting herself down on the edge and letting her legs dangle into the bowl. She’d given into the fact they weren’t leaving any time soon. 

Peter skidded to a stop next to her. “It’s just fun, give it a try.” 

“Unlike you, I don’t have an enhanced healing factor so if I fall and injure myself, it’d be really bad,” She deadpanned, looking up at him. 

“I won’t let you fall,” The boy remarked, smiling down at her and kicking the board up and on to its end. 

Michelle shook her head and thankfully Peter dropped it, placing himself on the edge of the bowl and Michelle widened her eyes. She was about to tell him to get back but he’d already dropped in, a curse escaping his mouth as he almost fell off but it quickly turned into a laugh as he went back up the other side. 

Closing her eyes, Michelle sighed in relief, ignoring the thundering of heart that she knew he could hear. She bit her nail as he continued to skate around the bowl, letting out celebratory yells every once and a while. 

She didn’t know how much time had gone by but from the way she felt, she assumed it was quite a bit when Peter got out and sat next to her. He let out a big breath, running a hand through his hair and turning to her. “I’m puffed, you sure you don’t want to try? I  _ promise _ I won’t let you fall.” 

A low rumble sounded from Michelle’s throat as she went over it in her head. She’d probably never get another chance to do something like this so she stood up reluctantly. Peter smiled widely and stood up as well, moving the board with his foot so that it was in front of her. 

He kept his foot on one end, gesturing for Michelle to put hers on the other before holding out his hands. Placing her hands in his, she noticed how much smaller hers were compared to his, even if she was taller. 

Peter nudged her foot with his own, moving it into the right position before encouraging her to jump on completely. Her hands squeezed his as she used him for balance, blushing as she squeaked when the board move under her. 

She’d fallen forward slightly but Peter helped her back up straight, smiling as he moved her feet again. “I’m gonna walk now and the board will just follow, ok? Also, bend your knees slightly, you’re locked so tight I’m scared they’ll invert themselves.” 

Michelle rolled her eyes but complied, tightening her grip on Peter’s hand and wobbling when he started to move. She didn’t squeal this time, thankfully. He was moving slowly, watching for any time she even slightly lost balance. 

Eventually, he managed to pick up the pace to a fast walk, taking her in circles around the park. When she’d managed to keep her balance for a significant amount of time Peter slowed to a stop. “I’m going to let go so you need to move, it’s easier to balance when you’re moving. Just kick off the ground when I let go and put your foot back where it is now. I’ll be right next to you as a safety net, promise.” 

“No, Peter, don’t-” Michelle stammered but he’d already let go and Michelle was starting to fall forward again. 

His arms were immediately wrapped around her torso as the board was pushed out from under her. He laughed, putting her back down onto her feet gently and letting her go to get the board, his touch still lingering on her after he left. 

“I should’ve told you that looking down will not help with balance at all, you look where you wanna go and if you look at the ground that’s where you’ll end up.” 

Michelle looked up at him and softened at the sight of his lit-up eyes. “Peter, I think- I’m done for today.” 

He nodded, rolling the board back and forth. “Fair enough, you did pretty well I think.” 

“I didn’t even let go of your hands,” She huffed. 

“So? Help is never a bad thing.” 

“God,” She sighed dramatically. “Ever Mr Poetic, huh?” 

“It’s what I’m good at,” Peter beamed. “Wanna spray paint our names on this thing?” 

As much as Michelle resisted, they left the skate park behind with a giant ‘MJ+PP Sep. 2019’ on the inside of the bowl. 

The memory had made her feel worse. It made her heartache for herself, for Peter. Not the Peter that had been around recently, the quiet, stressed, Peter, but the carefree, somewhat boisterous personality Peter that seemed to have disappeared when he got sick. 

It took a while but she’d managed to calm herself down, her sobs had turned into light sniffles before eventually becoming a singular shaky breath. Wiping underneath her eyes, she stood up from the bed, her knees wobbling slightly before she left the room.

Wrapping her arms around herself, MJ made her way to the rec room where she knew everyone would be. She passed by a mirror in the hallway and cringed at her obviously distraught face. Her hair was a mess, so she threw it in a low bun, something she hadn’t done in a while because she no longer felt the need too and entered the room. 

“Who here knows the most about Harry Osborn?” She asked, causing the room to seize as everyone shifted uncomfortably. 

“I met him first and I guess I was semi-close with him,” Liz replied, clearing her throat and standing up from the armchair she was in. 

Michelle left the room, making it pretty clear that Liz was supposed to follow. She leaned against the wall on the other side of the hall, picking at her nails as a couple of loose strands fell over her face.

“Is everything ok?” Liz asked, standing in front of her. 

“How did Harry even find this place?” Michelle dove straight in, asking all the questions she wished she would’ve asked days ago. 

“Well, he found me in Buffalo um, where I lived. I was just walking down the street looking for- I don’t even know what and of course when some guy in a white van asked if I was okay I ran. Long story short, I got in with him and he basically explained how he- who he was and that he wanted to help. He didn’t have a destination or anything he just drove and the car didn’t even need gas, he didn’t even know how it worked but I didn’t care. We picked up other people too and eventually we just- drove past this retirement village and it looked fancy and like it could be a safe place to restart,” Liz mumbled every now and then, scuffing the toe of her shoe along the carpet. 

“We’d drive into nearby cities and towns, picking up anyone who needed help. Peggy was one of the first people we found, she was already leading a group of people but they were camping out in like- tarps in alleyways and stuff. No one really elected her or whatever she just had that leader quality we needed, you know? I mean, Harry and me, we’re teenagers, we don’t know what the fuck to do half the time so we just let her take over.”

“How often did he talk about New York or his- old life?” Michelle gave her next question, not reacting much to the story. 

“Not at all to begin with. He felt guilty, really guilty. He always talked about how he knew what was happening but he only found out the day before and had no idea what to do. I mean, who would? Apparently, he told one other person the night before but he didn’t give details, just said his dad was going to do something fucked up. Now that I think about it, it had to have been Peter,” She furrowed her brows, looking at MJ. “Was it?” 

“I don’t know, he did-doesn’t talk about Harry much,” Michelle muttered. “Peter knows what the chemical was for and he said it was an accident but it doesn’t sound like it.” 

“He talked about Peter, never gave a name thought, just called him his best friend. Although uh,” Liz bit her lip. “The way he talked about him seemed more than friends at times. He kind of avoided talking about him though, he’d always just start telling a story but cut himself off and get really upset.” 

“Peter did the same thing.” 

Liz and Michelle let themselves be consumed by silence. Liz watched as Michelle seemed to go through a whole range of emotions, sadness, anger, nostalgia and finally her face went blank. She could tell she was bottling everything up and trying to keep herself composed. 

“Michelle, is- is everything ok? Is Peter ok?” 

“Everything’s fine,” She replied quickly, still looking at the ground. “When those people took Harry, what- do you know any more details?” 

“It was his dad,” Liz sighed. “There was a tracker on the van Harry took and they found him. It wasn’t forceful, well, it was but it wasn’t like an assault or anything. Harry didn’t want to go but his dad, he was so scared of him. They said they were going to Vancouver to stop the Japanese from supplying a cure and ‘continue work.’ It must’ve worked because that was like- God, it must be at least four or five months ago now and here we are.” 

“Do you think he’s alive?” 

“Oh yeah, I do. They needed Harry for something, they weren’t just taking him back for the sake of having him, they  _ needed _ him,” Liz watched as Michelle’s lip began to quiver. “Michelle, did Peter- did he leave?” 

Michelle sighed and nodded, clenching her jaw and looking up at Liz. The other girl sighed, giving her a pitiful look that Michelle hated with every bone in her body. Digging around in her pocket, she handed Liz the letter he left her, the rings coming out at the same time. 

Liz read the letter while Michelle debated with herself about the rings and as much as the made her heart twinged, she knew Peter would never forgive her if she lost them, so he put them around her neck. Not that Michelle was the one who needed forgiveness. 

Liz’s eyes went softer when she finished, handing her back the letter and mumbling; “Dick move if you ask me.” 

“No shit,” Michelle scoffed scornfully and put it back in her pocket. 

“So um,” Liz tilted her head. “Are you going?” 

“I don’t know, I mean, what if he’s back in like two weeks with Harry and everything is fine? Plus, it would take me like two weeks to walk there and its the dead of winter, it wouldn’t- yeah.” 

“Well, if you decide to go, I’m happy to go with you, we can prepare for everything so we won’t be caught off guard and stuff.” 

“Maybe, I’ll just- I’ll just wait.” 

So MJ waited. 

A week turned into two, two into three and by the time the fourth week began to roll around, Michelle was anxious. Everyone knew Peter had left at this point and while the pity stares had died down, his absence was forever present in her mind. 

New Years came and went, the anniversary of the Calamity came and went, which was a particularly hard day for everyone. Michelle preferred not to think the about the terrifyingly empty house she’d come home to on the second of January. 

Liz brought up leaving every once and a while, Michelle would brush it off each time. For one, if she was going to leave, she was going by herself. She’d started sub-consciously collating supplies, packing them into her backpack. 

Hell, she’d been copying Peter by burying herself in that workshop, trying to recreate an arc reactor from his blueprints. MJ was smart but physics wasn’t her preferred subject, even so, Midtown was STEM school. At least he had neat notes she could easily follow. 

She’d been shown the van that Harry had brought to the community, only whatever engine they’d had in it had been ripped out. As it turned out, Johnny knew more than enough about cars and managed to help Michelle install the arc reactor engine in less than a day. 

Even with all the preparation that she’d done, she hadn’t left. Some part of her was holding onto the hope that he would be coming back on his own, with or without with Harry. Because if Michelle left, to her it meant that Peter was in trouble but even with the knowledge that he might be in trouble, she was still angry at him. 

The moment midnight rolled around and marked exactly four weeks since Peter left, she gathered up her packed bag and got into the van. She had no idea how long it would last. Michelle didn’t know if it would break, how successful the arc reactor actually was but she didn’t care. It was better than walking the whole way. 

There had to be something up, there just  _ had _ to be and if it came down to it, she’d save Harry her damn self. 

At 12.39 am on the 23 of January, Michelle left the retirement village, giving nothing more than a short goodbye to Bucky and Steve at the gate. The rec room had an entire selection of CD’s, which she gladly took her pick from to play in the car. Otherwise, she’d have nothing but her own thoughts for entertainment and that was the last thing she wanted. 

She’s not going to lie, MJ did not know how to drive. 

Thank God the roads were vacant because the first few hours were full of playing with the changing gears and headlights, fiddling with the heating and radio, and swerving halfway across the snow-laden highway and back. 

There was no need to learn to drive in New York, for one, she was in high school and the only places she went with her minimal social life was the school. A bus existed for that. If she ever needed to head anywhere else, it was usually close enough to walk or god forbid, she’d take the train. 

Taking the train was the last resort, the time she caught a man taking a photo between her 14-year-old legs the one time she wore a skirt above her knees on the vehicle was enough to put her off. Not to mention, it stressed her out in general. 

Eventually, she got the hang of it and almost run out of music. She had to pull over after six hours because her stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out. There’s no time to cook or even heat anything up properly, so she suffered through a tin of tuna and stale crackers. 

She kept driving before she’d even finished, letting the empty tin tumble to the floor of the van and playing the All Of This And Nothing album from the  _ seminal _ 80’s band The Psychedelic Furs. Anything was better than The Cardigans. 

The lump in her throat grew bigger and bigger with every mile she drove, with every city and entered and exited. She had no idea what she was getting into. Hell, she wasn’t Spider-Man, the most she had was Peter’s stupid bat he left behind. 

She had to stop after another eight hours, her eyes starting to droop as she drove through a suburb in Kamloops. However, she knew she that stopping in a suburb would be dangerous, so she slapped herself and made another few miles until she was on the outskirts before pulling over. The second her eyes shut, she fell asleep. 

Michelle slept for longer than she would’ve liked, the faster she could get on the road again the better. Again, who knew what Peter had got himself into. There were two things she knew for certain, this meant Harry was alive but it meant Harry was in trouble. Where Harry went, Peter went and vice versa; that wasn’t exactly a secret at Midtown. 

A tin of peaches is what she had packed for breakfast every morning. It was more or less just for a sentimental value considering peaches held close to no nutritional value. None of the tin was wasted, nothing was wasted anymore these days even if resources were slightly more accessible than they used to be. 

Her hands were beginning to cramp up on the steering wheel and she was tempted to let go completely and steer with her knees like her dad used to do. For one, she was too scared to do that in case she lost control and two, her dad was a topic of avoidance nowadays. 

A sign in the distance made her heart fall to her stomach, the word ‘Vancouver’ plastered in large lettering and the population of approx. 675,000 jumped out at her like it was as large on the sign as the name of the city. She figured it was probably down to 100,000, less when she took into consideration how many people would’ve fled or died. 

All she could do was hope Peter wasn’t apart of her made-up statistic. 

As she got closer she could see a giant arrow spray-painted on it, pointing to the left. At first, she brushed it off, deeming it as mindless vandalism in the wake of the Calamity but as she drove past more and more signs pointing to the left, with only one place name on them, it became pretty clear this place was important.

Richmond was important in a bad way. If what she gathered from Liz was true, there had to be come kind of secret operation being run by Norman Osborn and turning up in one of their own vans was a really dumb idea. MJ jumped out of the van, grabbing her bag and starting to walk, truding through the snow. 

So she followed all the signs to Richmond, her finger tapping on the strap of her backpack sporadically as she threatened to spill over with nerves. The ‘cryptic’ signs pointing her towards a town called Steveston. The knot in her stomach grew roots, reaching out into her body and winding itself around her organs, squeezing tightly. As they interweaved through her rib cage and she navigated the coastal town, she could’ve sworn she heard her name being called. 

Ignoring it, brushing it off as her own paranoia, an empty wharf came into view. This had to be it, the rumour she’d heard was true but the fact it was baren didn’t sit right with her at all. A few boats sat in the frozen water, unmoving. Everything in this town was so solitary, MJ felt like she was walking through a painting. 

She stood at the spot where land met the dock, the town as silent as it always was. Still, something didn’t feel right. She scanned the seemingly deserted landscape, wrapping a hand around the bat. With the silence of the crisp air, she could practically hear the cold whispering to her for there was no other sound. 

At least, until a sharp yell sliced through it. It was her name and she’d recognise that voice anywhere. He sounded frantic as if his own life was in danger and he was screaming for help. Michelle propelled herself around, stumbling in the snow. 

The roots snapped every single one of her ribs as she finally saw him again, she could help the whimper that escaped her mouth. Dropping the bat, she blundered towards him, her legs weak just from the sight of him and from walking for hours. 

“Peter,” Michelle croaked, sighing as she kicked up white around her. 

He called her name once more, running towards her faster than any normal human could ever run, even in the debilitating snow. As he got closer, she could see the panicked look on his still gaunt face. Michelle wasn’t sure why she felt so surprised that something awful was clearly taking place in this abandoned town when it was what she’d expected. 

“Peter?” This time she was more concerned than relieved, while also feeling the heat of anger creep through her veins. 

Peter skid to the stop in front of her, looking over his shoulder before back at her face. His whole body was shaking, breath fleeting. Curls fell in front of his face as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You have to go, now, you shouldn’t have come here.” 

“Peter,” Michelle said again, his name sounding redundant this time. 

“ _ Now _ , Michelle,” Peter snapped, his voice raised, angry. 

“Peter!” Her voice matched the level of his own, ripping her shoulders out of his grasp as he grit his teeth. 

“I’m so fucking serious, MJ,” Now even his head was shaking as anger coursed through him. “Run to the fucking van and fucking drive away, they know you’re here and they’ll kill you. You have to go, I’ll catch up later just go!” 

“You have to come too then,” She cried, suddenly finding her vocabulary and waving her hands in the air. 

“Now is not the time for your stubborn bullshit,” Peter retorted, looking behind him once again. “I can hear them, you have to go.” 

“Who’s them!” 

“I’ll explain later when we’re both alive because you need to get to the van and drive! Now trust me and  _ run _ .” 

Michelle paused at the word trust. Did she trust Peter? He lied to her and broke a promise he knew the significance of. Although, now wasn’t the time to question relationships because he was pushing her back to the still-open door of the van. 

Reluctantly she began to run, pleading silently for Peter to follow. However, Peter’s hero complex was as present as it always was and he was starting to run back from the way he came. Michelle tripped occasionally, the snow and her weak legs not aiding in her escape. 

Peter started running too, passing her in an instant and the gap between them increasing by large amounts every second. The speed at which he could run left her both amazed and slightly scared, the fact his legs hadn’t snapped in half was incredible. 

The rate at which he could stop was also terrifying and caused Michelle to stop too. It was probably a good thing she did because a root was forcing it’s way up and out her throat when she saw what--who Peter had stopped for. 

She knew he was alive and in a sticky situation but holy shit, seeing Harry Osborn standing in mere feet away in head to toe tactical gear with a military-grade gun was not how she was imagined this going. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ithis chapter was originally going to keep going buuuut i cut it off or it wouldve been like .. 14k words or something see unext week   
> interesting developments hey?


	8. you'll never be alone again

Norman Osborn had given Peter a proper meal (of normal human size) and let him rest in a room he’d be sharing with Harry. The man had eyes in the back of his head because before Peter had left his office, he’d told his son he was allowed to drop the act. 

Peter had woken up later in the evening, the curtains were shut and the only light was a desk lamp that Harry had on. A sharp intake of breath from Peter had made the other boy’s head snap up from the notebook he was staring at and immediately head to his bedside. 

Harry reached out to run a hand through his hair but stopped himself, retreating back into himself. Peter gave him a small smile, running his own hand through his hair instead. 

“How are you feeling?” Harry whispered, tilting his head to the side and returning the smile. 

“I’m just fucking exhausted,” Peter sighed, his eyes closing again. “But better, I guess.” 

“Do you need anything?” 

Peter smiled wider, peering at him through one eye and extending his arms out towards Harry. Harry laughed, letting himself into the bed next to Peter and wrapping his arms around him. Immediately Peter buried his head into Harry’s chest, intertwining their legs. 

“Just like old times?” Harry hummed.

“Just like old times,” Peter confirmed. 

They lay there in comfortable silence and both of them thought about the same things. Memories of the two of them sleeping together almost every night. Sometimes squished together in Peter’s abysmal single bed that was barely big enough for just Peter and other times sprawled out in Harry’s king-sized bed, yet always touching in some way. 

Sometimes it’d be under the light of the Netflix end screen, or the dying neon of the glow sticks Peter had webbed onto Harry’s ceiling fan. Other times it would be under rays of sun shining through a living room window on a summer afternoon. 

They felt like home to each other and for the first time in over a year, Harry felt like everything okay. The world was no longer burning to the ground outside his window because Peter was finally back where he always should be, with him. 

“Peter?” Harry whispered to which Peter hummed in reply. “What did you do? After?” 

“I stole May’s car and drove it as far as I could go and then I just walked, hid out, survived for eight months until I met MJ and I finally- we had a purpose.” 

“Why didn’t you- why didn’t you come to the tower?” 

“I was kind of angry at you and I was angry at myself. Angry at you because you knew something and you wouldn't tell me and maybe we could’ve done something and angry at myself because-because I killed May,” Peter whispered, tensing up on top of Harry.

Harry was quiet and Peter could hear his heartbeat start to go a little faster. “What?” 

“She-she was infected and I-I-I- my instincts took over and I threw her off me and to the other side of the living room before I snapped her neck,” Peter’s voice cracked slightly as he told the story out loud for only the second time. “If it wasn’t for these stupid powers I would’ve let her kill me.” 

“You know that’s not your fault, right?” 

“How is it not? I broke her neck.” 

“She was infected.” 

“I could’ve left and figured out a cure, I could’ve let her kill me-” 

“Don’t say that,” Harry huffed, pulling Peter closer. “You really think May could live with herself if she killed you? She was infected, now I’m not saying that her life didn’t matter because she was infected but you know what I mean, dude.” 

Peter stayed silent, grinding his molars back and forth before Harry grabbed his jaw, telling him to stop doing that. He huffed out a laugh, pulling his face out of Harry’s grasp. “What about you?” He asked. “What happened?” 

“Long story short,” Harry sighed. “I tried my best to convince Norman to fix it but you know him, I don’t know why I even bothered. So I just left and I picked up people who needed help and then we found that retirement village and started up a place and then Norman found me and took me here. I suppose I’m lucky I never had to go through every you did, I don’t know if I would’ve survived.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t have to go through everything I did. Increased metabolism was cool and all when I could whatever I wanted whenever I wanted but it’s not so great. At my lowest point I was really sick and the house we crashed in had scales and I was like- I can’t even remember, like 110 pounds or something.” 

“Jesus Christ, Peter,” Harry’s voice cracked with concern. “How were you even walking?” 

“I honestly think the only thing that kept me going was MJ.” 

Harry went quiet again, gulping as his body tensed slightly. Peter tilted his head up to look at him. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he tugged at the strings of the sweat pants Harry had given him to wear. “Harry, I-” 

“No, Peter I’m really sorry about that night. It was so stupid of me. I know you don’t actually like me like that. I probably ruined everything-” 

“Harry,” Peter propped himself up onto his elbow, looking down at the boy beneath him. “Don’t apologise. Like you said, my decision making was fully functional. Nothing you could do could ever ruin what we have.” 

Harry nodded, licking his lips and glancing between Peter and the desk he was sitting at before. With a deep breath, he sat up, carefully removing himself from Peter. “I’m trying to figure out this cure as they rework their formula and you’d probably be better at it than me; help?” 

Smiling and shaking his head, he nodded and followed Harry to the desk after dragging a chair over from the other side of the room. If he ignored the fact that they were trying to restore humanity as they once knew it, the task felt like a chemistry project they’d been assigned by their teacher. Immediately they started bouncing off each other, just like they used to do. 

The next day, Peter had been woken up to Norman knocking on the door, shoving a lab coat and glasses into his hands. He’d made some snide comment about how lovely his and Harry’s reunion must’ve been before hauling Peter to a bustling lab. 

He couldn’t help but be disgusted by the sheer amount of people working on this drug. It was truly baffling to see so many people so happy with committing an act of such moral turpitude. Norman introduced him to the important people, all of them far too excited to be meeting Peter. 

“You see, Pete,” Norman placed a hand on his shoulder and Peter cringed both at the nickname and the touch. “People need someone to tell them what to do. Free will, as much as people claim they love it, is the cause of most if not all conflict, big or small. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Peter didn’t reply. 

“Of course, this did start as something for the military but once we realised just how pioneering this drug could be, we had to start working on it for ourselves. The drug is supposed to rewire people’s brains into being compliant. Some people would call it brainwashing and I have to agree, all we’re doing here is helping everyone be as clean as they can be.” 

“So, you want me to help formulate it to work on everyone?” 

“That’s exactly right,” The older Osborn smiled, squeezing Peter’s shoulder and making him bite his tongue. 

“I-I’m flattered but I’m more of a physicist, I was never that great at chemistry or biology,” Peter stepped away from the man, sliding his shoulder out of his grasp. 

“Nonsense, I’ve seen your grades, if your Aunt would’ve let me I was going to send you to college when you were 15. Let’s not forget all the incredible work your father did, Richard was a brilliant scientist and he passed it onto you. I f only I’d done the same,” Norman sighed and Peter wanted to slap him for not only mentioning his dead relatives but for also talking about Harry like he was a liability. If he was such a disappointment, why did they apparently need him? 

Peter bit down on his bottom lip, zoning out as Norman gave him a place to work and a mentor to work under. He could get away for a few days by ‘learning the ropes’ and pretending to analyse the formula they were currently working with, claiming he wanted to get as much data as he could to be as efficient as possible. 

The only upside of this place was that he got to be with Harry apart from the six hours he was in the lab bullshitting his way past all the scientists by the skin of his teeth. Harry was one of the guards they had on a rotation to patrol the small town and Peter realised just how lucky he was that it was Harry who had found him. 

Of course, he really wished he could just be normal for once. All he really wanted was to spend time with Harry, watch a damn movie, eat junk, get drunk and hell, as much as drugs didn’t really do much for him, he’d kill to do drugs just because he could. Some kind of teenager experience was all he really wanted; a break was all he really wanted. 

There was one night when Peter really couldn’t sleep. He was just so sick of being worried. Worried about how long he could keep up his facade in the lab, worried about MJ and if she was okay and if she was mad at him, he knew she was. As Spider-Man, he worried about the state of New York but now he was worried about the state of the entire world and he couldn’t help but think it wasn’t entirely fair. 

“Harry,” He spoke into the room. When there was no reply, he spoke louder and cleared his throat. “Harry.” 

“Hm?” The boy mumbled tiredly, shifting in his bed to face Peter. 

“Can we go to the dock?” 

“What?” Harry croaked, sitting up. 

“I just need to breathe, just for an hour,” Peter replied, sighing and turning on the light in the room. “We’ll come back and if Norman has an issue I’ll take the fall, it’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” Harry yawned, getting out of his bed and getting dressed. 

Peter smiled, getting out as well and getting dressed in a few more layers than Harry. “Harry do you um- do you have anything?” 

Harry furrowed his brows, looking at Peter and rubbing his eyes again. “Have anything? You mean like- all I have is a packet of cigs.” 

“Bring them.” 

“Are you sure? You don’t smoke, Pete,” Harry rasped, watching Peter cautiously. 

“I know,” Peter shrugged. “I miss not having to worry about anything important. I can’t sleep right now because I feel like I’ve got the world on my shoulders and I- yeah.” 

“Alright,” Harry rifled through a desk drawer and shoved the pack in his pocket. 

Peter opened up the window and jumped out, appreciating the fact it was on the ground level despite the fact it wouldn’t have mattered to him where it was. Harry jumped out after, shutting the window but making sure they were still able to get back inside. 

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes shut. Harry slapped a hand onto his back, starting to walk towards the dock before wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter sighed, leaning into his friend as they walked. 

“I really miss MJ,” Peter mumbled. 

“I know, you still sleep talk,” Harry teased, snorting. 

Peter blushed, bowing his head and fiddling with his fingers. “I feel so shit for leaving her like- I didn’t even tell her I was going I just left. I mean I left a note but in hindsight that wasn’t a good move.” 

“Wasn’t a good move?” Harry scoffed. “That was the most colossal, dumbass move you could’ve ever made. Jesus, Peter. And people say your smart.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know I fucked up and I left the day after Christmas and after we kissed for the first time,” Peter sighed. “The world doesn’t like me kissing people I guess.” 

“I don’t even know where to begin telling you what’s wrong with what you just said,” Harry replied, shaking his head and looking down at Peter. “You kissed her, on Christmas day, left while she was sleeping and left nothing but a fucking note? What kind of fucking drama books have you been reading? Also, yeah maybe the world kind of hates you but it hates me too and we always get through it, don’t we? Throws shit at us because it knows we can handle it.” 

“Drug addiction doesn’t count as ‘handling’ it,” Peter retorted. 

“First of all, I’m not addicted- well, maybe a year ago but not now. Two, it’s better than the shit ton of guilt and blame you put on yourself and you just let it sit and brew in your chest until you have a breakdown.” 

“I’ve only had a breakdown like twice,” He muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“I was the one who was clung to every time you had one so I think I’d know.” 

“Alright, alright maybe I bottle shit up but I don’t have time to let it out, so…” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “You’re letting it out right now.” 

Peter sighed as they reached the dock, clearing snow off the end of it before sitting down and letting his legs hand off the edge. His pants turned damp immediately and he cringed but brought one knee up to his chest as Harry sat next to him. 

Breathing out through his mouth, he found the slightest comfort watching it condense in the cold air. It reminded him of times in winter where he could be outside comfortably and actually enjoy it. His best memories were with May and Ben on their weekend trips to Central Park all year round. Those stopped when Ben died. 

“So what’s on your mind, Petey? Is it just MJ or?” 

“Well, the MJ situation is plaguing my mind and it’s only getting worse everyday because like- I told her I’d be back but it’s been three weeks and she probably thinks I’m dead. I don’t want to be so selfish as to say she’s losing sleep over me but she- I watched her have a breakdown about being alone again and I left her. I promised her I wouldn’t and after everything she did for me, I left.” 

“For me,” Harry sighed. 

“Yeah and I don’t regret it, I was too restless. I knew you were out there, I knew you were alive and I couldn’t just live without being sure. I couldn’t sit still knowing something could be wrong and I wasn’t there. The plan was for me to find you and then we just go back but obviously, it didn’t go quite like that.” 

“If I knew you were coming I would’ve told you to turn around and fuck off,” Harry replied matter-of-factly. “I would’ve never let you even step foot in Vancouver. Did you notice how the city was literally dead? Yeah, Norman either scared anyone off or killed those who didn’t.” 

“I always knew the guy was a fucking psychopath,” Peter grumbled, digging through Harry’s pocket for the packet and pulling them out.

He scrunched his nose up from the stench that wafted towards him, holding them away from his face. “Why’d you ask for these again?” 

“We’ve been living like this for a year and frankly, as much as I thought doing this shit was pointless, I miss pointless. I’m- all you can really do right now is hope and work for a better life but it’s so draining,” Peter pulled a cigarette out of the packet and then the lighter, bringing it up to his mouth. “I want a life where you can do pointless whenever you want again. I did that for a while after the Calamity but then I got sick and suddenly pointless was life-threatening, it changed everything.” 

“So now you’ll smoke cancer in the middle of the night during winter? I can see you shivering, it’s not exactly subtle.” 

“I honestly don’t care. Plus, don’t think I can even get cancer,” Peter mumbled with it dangling out the corner of his mouth before lighting it. 

He coughed almost immediately, taking it out of his mouth and cringing. Harry took it from him, placing it in his own mouth and not even flinching while rubbing Peter on the back. Peter scowled, taking it back and managing to contain himself this time. 

They passed it back and forth between them in silence, condensated breath being replaced by smoke. When Harry finally pushed the butt against the wood of the deck Peter coughed a final time. “Yeah, I’m never doing that again.” 

Harry laughed slightly, nodding along before looking over at Peter. Peter stared out at the frozen lake in front of them, a smirk crossing his face before he cautiously dropped himself onto the ice. He tested it, jumping up and down while holding onto the pole of the dock. 

“Peter, I swear to God if you fall in-” 

“It’s fine, it’s gotta be like four feet thick or something, come on,” Peter brushed Harry off and shuffled away from the pole. “Come ice skating with me.” 

“That’s shuffling.” 

“Alright, come ice shuffling then,” Peter smiled, extending a handout. 

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled, taking him up on the offer. 

Peter continued to work in the labs, taking every new formula he got back to Harry to reverse engineer. At times it seemed futile because it wasn’t like they had any way of testing. As far as Peter knew, Oscorp had no test subjects for their drug, so how were they supposed to test the cure? They couldn’t. Everything was purely theoretical and that made Peter nervous but at the same time, he was fairly confident it would work. 

They continued to sneak out at night every once and a while and Peter could tell Norman knew but didn’t seem to care. If there was a redeeming quality about Norman Osborn (hardly) it was the fact that He let Harry and Peter spend uninterrupted time together. 

Sometimes Peter thought about running. He could do it easily but that meant he would be hunted for the rest of his life. Knowledge was power and Peter sure had a lot of it. On top of that, there was no way he was going anywhere without Harry. 

As much as he missed MJ, as much as he just wanted to hold her again, as long as Harry was stuck here, so was Peter. No matter how long it took, he was going to get Harry out. 

Killing Norman Osborn seemed like the easiest option but he couldn’t do that. As twisted as it was, they need him. They needed the intel he willingly supplied to Peter as he worked under the guise of a lab coat and silence. 

The people he worked with were nice, they were friendly. That was probably the scariest part about it, as well as that, they truly believed everything they were doing was all in the name of the greater good. It was obvious that Peter was being forced to work there and considering he was the youngest by over ten years, he still had to pull miraculous theories out of thin air to impress them and keep them thinking he was okay with all of this. 

Often he’d come up with theories he knew wouldn’t work but sounded feasible enough to please them but he was running out. He’d already been confronted about his lack of progress in the past week and he’d only been there for a little less than four. He was running out of ideas. 

Not to mention, he was still starving all the time. Of course, he was getting a lot more food than he used to while travelling but no one knew he was Spider-man and no one could know. He’d heard Norman talk about how fascinated he was by his powers before and there was no doubt in his mind Peter would be turned into a lab rat. 

Harry would sneak some of his own food onto Peter’s plate but Peter would always put it back. It wasn’t Harry’s fault his body didn’t know how to adapt. So of course, he was still losing weight, a lot slower this time but God, he was terrified at the state of his own body every time he looked in the mirror. 

On the 27th day of his arrival, he was preparing himself to go into the lab when he was stopped by Norman. The man towered over him with his usual sinister smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, again. 

“I’m sending you and Harry on a supply run,” He said. “There are a few towns nearby we haven’t checked out yet so I need you two to go do that.” 

“Uh, okay?” Peter furrowed his brows. 

“Go get into warm clothes,” He nodded his head in the direction of Peter and Harry’s room. 

Peter complied, still confused, and got changed into warmer clothes. When he came back, Harry was standing next to Norman with a grimace and a gun. Norman handed Peter a gun of the same calibre, to which Peter’s jaw almost dropped. 

“Get everything, food, clothing, drugs, medical supplies, everything we need and want, be back in eight hours.” 

With that, Norman disappeared into the lab and left the two boys behind, Peter still slightly terrified by the weaponry in his arms. Harry noticed his discomfort and gave a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay, you won’t have to actually use it.” 

Peter nodded, sighing before following Harry out the door. They walked side by side, Peter looking down at the ground and chewing the inside of his cheek. 

“Is this what you do every day?” Peter asked, finally breaking the silence. 

Harry shrugged, “I usually just walk around Richmond and make sure no one walks too close to here. I was told to kill people if I see them but I can’t bring myself to do that so I just threaten them, I’ve actually seen two people, you included.” 

Peter nodded, curling into the warmth of the insulated jacket he’d been given. 

“This whole thing is so surreal, it feels like we’re in World War Z or something, expect the science of disease was way off, well, they didn’t really have all that much to begin with. Contagion was so much better,” 

“Peter?” Harry smirked, “Shut up or I’ll plant eggs in your chest.” 

“Please don’t do that,” Peter whimpered, pouting.

Harry laughed, bumping his shoulder and making Peter laugh too. They sobered up slowly and kept walking through the snow. 

“We could run, right now,” Peter gulped, looking between Harry and the ground. 

“You know I can’t do that,” Harry sighed, “I wish I could, Pete, I really wish I could.” 

Peter halts in his tracks, flinging his arms around his best friend and holding him close. Their guns make an ugly noise as they crash together. He can’t help but feel that it isn’t fair, that nothing in his whole entire life has been fair. May used to tell him that bad things happen to good people because the world knew they could handle it but Peter wasn’t sure just how much he could take. 

Losing Harry for a second time, well that would be the icing on the cake. 

Harry hugged him back tightly, squeezing the shorter boy as hard as he could. Neither of them wanted to move and the existential dread as the reality of their situation finally started to slot together in Peter’s head. 

As much as he wanted to be with Harry, that meant staying here and he was growing restless again. Staying here wasn’t helping anyone except Norman Osborn. On the other hand, as much as he wanted Harry to come with him, unless Peter figured out how to fry the tracker buried in his spine, it wasn’t happening. 

Harry had realised as much the second he realised he’d been pointing a gun at his best friend. Yet selfishly, he’d kept Peter here and written him a life sentence to match his own. Whenever Peter wanted to leave, he’d help him no matter how badly he wanted him to stay. 

Harry had come to accept what his life would be like now. Working under his father whether he liked it or not, watch him rebuild the world under his own perverted agenda. He’d always knew the man who raised him was insane but he never expected something like this. 

Norman Osborn had no trouble pulling a trigger and Harry was finding it easier and easier every time he did it. 

There’d been a time where he screamed at Norman, telling him he wanted things to go back to normal and his dad had simply told him this was normal now. As much as Harry wanted to throw it right back in his face, he was right. The man had always had a knack for being right, as deranged as it was. 

Guilt was a funny thing. 

It ate you up from the inside out, starting in your heart and spreading through you organs like a cancerous cell. It continued to spread and spread until it ate away at your brain, leaving every inch of your body aching, screaming for help. 

No matter if the feeling was valid or not in Harry’s case, the number of times he’d been left wanting to crumple to his knees and shout until his lungs gave out was sickening. 

So while they got all the supplies they had as much fun as they possibly could. Peter probably exerted far too much energy than he could afford. They weren’t even sure what supplies they were meant to be getting, as far as they were concerned Norman had sent them out there with a kiss on the cheek and wishes to have fun. 

Eight hours went by far too quickly and before they wanted to, they were back in Steveston with sacks full or anything and everything they could grab. Norman had just smiled and told them they’d done a good job before letting them have dinner. 

Harry tried to feed Peter his own food again but still, Peter wouldn’t eat it until Harry got up from the table, talking about what a waste it was that he had to throw it away. Only then would Peter eat Harry’s food. 

Peter was lying on top of Harry again that night, Harry’s hand running through his hair that had grown too long once again. His fingers were getting stuck in the knots and he’d work them out gently, causing Peter to shiver every time he tugged. 

“Harry?” Peter whispered, Harry hummed in response. 

“I think I’m going to leave soon.” 

“I know,” He sighed. “It wasn’t fair of me to make you stay, I should’ve made you leave. I’ll do anything to help you get out.” 

“I want you to come with me so bad but I don’t know anything about the tracker so I can’t-” 

“It’s ok, Peter, I got to see you again and I know we’ll see each other again, I just know it, dude.” 

Peter nodded, hugging Harry tighter. “We’ll always find each other again.” 

Harry thought about all the time Peter had helped him find himself and nodded. “Yeah, we will.” 

Timing was everything. 

Peter realised this during his lunch break the next day when Harry pulled on his arm in a panicked manner. His eyes were wide, his knuckles white around Peter’s wrist. No matter how many time’s Peter asked him what was wrong, he said nothing. 

Harry pushed him into a room Peter had never been in before but there were monitors covering every inch of the wall and Peter recognised the displays as surveillance footage. There were cameras covering the entrance to Vancouver all the way to the town Peter and Harry had just raided. His jaw dropped at the sheer amount of land they’d managed to cover and it sent shivers up his spine. 

He noticed Harry was pointing at a monitor and followed his outstretched arm. Peter’s blood ran cold. 

“Is that-” 

“Yes, yes, that’s MJ,” Peter panicked, his voice straining as he struggled to find his bearings and figure out where she was. 

“She’s just outside the wharf, I’ll cover, you go. She got here in the van I took, it has a tracker in it they probably knew she was already coming.” 

Peter nodded vigorously, walking backwards until his back hit the door handle and fumbling around to twist it open. He shot Harry one last painful look, he returned with a reassuring one before Peter took off down the hallway. 

He made himself speed walk instead of running when he was inside, knowing that it would raise suspicions if anyone saw him. He nodded politely at anyone he walked by and the second he was out the front door, he took off in the fastest run he’d done in months, possibly ever, if he thought about it. 

Peter had never actually tested to see how quickly he could run but every muscle burned at the pace he was going and speeding up wasn’t an option. He almost scared himself at the speed he was actually going. 

When he got his first glimpse of her around the corner, he screamed her name, to which she only seemed to be sceptical of. He had no idea what Harry was doing but he prayed that whatever it was meant no one else except them knew she was here. 

He got closer to her, yelling her name on more time in a way he’d never heard himself before. Michelle’s head finally whipped around, her jaw-dropping along with his bat. She started making her own way towards him, his name falling out of her mouth. 

Peter screeched to a stop in front of her, his lungs on fire as he attempted to get any kind of breathing pattern back. He gulped down a massive breath, placing his hands on her shoulders and trying his best not to throw her around like a rag doll. “You have to go, now, you shouldn’t have come here.” 

“Peter.” 

He wanted to hug her. 

“Now, Michelle,” Peter snapped, his voice raised, angry. 

“Peter!”

“I’m so fucking serious, MJ,” Anger coursed through him. “Run to the fucking van and fucking drive away, they know you’re here and they’ll kill you. You have to go, I’ll catch up later just go!” 

“You have to come too then,” Michelle cried, suddenly finding her vocabulary and waving her hands in the air. 

He wanted to kiss her. 

The sound of snow crunching from a couple of blocks away made him freeze. 

“Now is not the time for your stubborn bullshit,” Peter retorted, looking behind him once again. “I can hear them, you have to go.” 

“Who’s them!” 

“I’ll explain later when we’re both alive because you need to get to the van and drive! Now trust me and run.” 

He could tell she didn’t want to leave but he begged her silently to move, she complied and started running. Peter started following her but decided that getting rid of any threats was the smartest choice at the time so he started to head back towards the new Oscorp. 

He heard her follow him obviously quite a few paces behind and as much as he wanted to turn around and tell her to leave already, he found himself not caring. However, he came to a stop when the only person standing in the middle of the road was Harry and let out a sigh of relief. 

“Harry-” 

“I looped the camera’s, no one knows she’s here, we can get her into our room through the window until we sort- I don’t know, until everything is okay.” 

By this point, Michelle had walked up behind Peter, her chest heaving as she bent over on her knees, gulping in massive breathes of air. She stood up straight eventually, having caught her breath and Peter looked back at her, taking in her bright red cheeks. 

“Harry this is-” 

“MJ,” Harry shrugged, looking between the girl and Peter. 

“Michelle,” She retorted, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Michelle,” Harry’s eyes widened and he gulped, looking her up and down before nodding and walking backwards. “Right, well, we should, you know, get back now.” 

Peter nodded, grabbing MJ’s hand and intertwining their fingers once Harry had turned his back to them. Michelle looked down at him, before looking at the snow, gulping and squeezing his hand. 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her own arm across her body as he tugged her into his side. She leaned into him, sighing at the relief of having him but also the anger she felt towards him for leaving. Peter pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger as he breathed in her scent. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, leaning down to her ear. 

“I know,” MJ replied, looking at him. 

Peter sighed, looking away from her as a solemn expression crossed his face. He looked back up at her seconds later and gave a tight smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad you’re ok,” She hummed before looking forward at Harry, who was very obviously eavesdropping. “I’m glad you’re ok too, Harry.” 

Harry huffed, looking behind him quickly with red cheeks before looking away. “Thanks.” 

Harry opened the window and let Peter help MJ get in first, making sure both were inside safely before climbing in after. Michelle was looking around the room, examining the various posters and photos on the wall, the most Harry had done to make it feel slightly less uncomfortable. 

She sat down on Peter’s bed, kicking her shoes off and curling into his pillow. Peter smiled and sat on the end, letting the lab coat fall to the ground. Harry sat on his own bed, putting the gun down and running a hand through his hair. 

“What’ve you guys been doing here?” Michelle mused, kicking her feet in Peter’s lap. 

“Norman made Peter work in the labs for him and we’ve been reverse-engineering it,” Harry tore his eyes away from the affection and Peter’s warm smile, gulping and nodding to the pile of papers on the desk. “He thinks I’m useless so I just walk around with a gun all day.” 

“And you two just- leave the papers out,” She shrugged, her eyes flickering between both boys who both opened and closed their mouths at a loss for words. 

“Well,” Peter began, gesturing around the room. “Yeah?” 

“Idiots.” 

Harry pursed his lips and shrugged as if to say;  _ she’s not wrong.  _ Peter blushed. 

“Oh shit,” Peter hissed, standing up from the bed and letting Michelle’s legs drop onto the mattress. “Norman is expecting me down there and I’ve been gone for ages, he’s gonna-” 

“I told him you were violently throwing up and I sent you to bed, it’s fine,” Harry gestured for him to sit back down on the bed. Peter tugged at his hair and sighed in relief. 

“Em, are you hungry?” 

“A bit,” She shrugged. “It’s okay though, don’t worry.” 

“I’ll get you something,” Peter replied, already reaching for the door when Harry pulled him away. 

“No, I’ll go,” He corrected Peter, his eyes wide. “You’re supposed to be sick, besides, you two need to catch up.” 

“Right, right, sick,” Peter nodded, sitting back down on the bed as Harry left the room. 

MJ sat up, glaring at Peter before pushing him. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” 

Peter pouted and rubbed his arm. 

“Who the fuck leaves with just a note, the day after Christmas after kissing someone! No one! But you had to do it, didn’t you? Asshole, fucking asshole,” Michelle hissed, her hands waving wildly in the air as Peter chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just- I thought just leaving would be easier but I know now that it wasn’t and I’m so sorry, MJ,” Peter spoke softly, his hand resting on her upper arm. “Really, I regretted it the second I left but I couldn’t- I had to do this, I know you know I did.” 

“You and your stupid hero complex,” She grumbled. “I wish you would’ve told me, I could’ve helped. Really, I’m glad you reunited with Harry but you promised.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, MJ,” He squeezed her arm as his lips twisted to the side, looking down at the bed. “I was going to come back, I just-” 

“Harry, I get it,” MJ sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “You should’ve just said something, I mean, I knew it was coming but it really sucked waking up to a note. Also, I should give you this back.” 

She reached up to her neck and took off the chain, placing the two rings in the palm of his hand. Peter traced a finger over them delicately, slipping them over his own neck before reaching forward and pulling her into a hug. 

Michelle hugged back, gripping the material of his shirt tightly into fists. She buried her head into his neck and Peter did the same, letting his eyes flutter closed. 

“I miss you so much, MJ, I don’t know how I survived without you,” He whispered, sending goosebumps up her spine. 

“I don’t know how you survived without me either,” She whispered back, the smirk on her face evident in her voice and Peter laughed. 

He pulled out of the hug when the door opened, Harry standing in the frame awkwardly with two bowls of soup. The boy smiled down at them, handing both Peter and Michelle a bowl. “Norman thinks your sick so he- yeah.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want this?” Peter pointed down the broth with his spoon as MJ muttered a quick thanks before bringing the rim straight to her lips. 

“Just eat the damn soup, Peter,” Harry rolled his eyes before sitting on the bed. 

“So that’s how you survived without me,” Michelle smiled, nodding at Harry. 

“Shut up,” Peter blushed while Harry stuck out his hand for a high five, snickering and raising his eyebrows when Michelle actually met his hand with her own. 

“Peter Defence Squad,” Harry smiled, pointing between himself and Michelle. 

She narrowed his eyes at him, tilting her head before smiling slightly, her fringe falling into her face. “I guess you can call me MJ.”

Harry blanched, his face neutral as he shrugged. “Am I supposed to be thrilled or something? Did I win a prestigious award?” 

“Yeah, you can definitely call me MJ.” 

They’d let Michelle rest for a bit, her small frame drowning in the thick covers of Peters bed. In the meanwhile, Harry and Peter had continued to work on their formula and Peter was convinced they’d cracked it. After running through every scenario and calculation he could think of, everything checked out. 

It took everything in him to not leap up from his seat and jump up and down while cheering. Harry had snuck into the camera room again to loop the footage for the next hour while Peter snuck into the labs and made their formula a reality. 

He’d also managed to make himself a few more bottles of web fluid, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to do that for a while and he would definitely be needing it sometime soon. He could feel it in his gut. 

When they got back to the room, Michelle was still asleep so they jumped out of the window and rather than going to the docks, they just stood outside the window and completed their now nightly routine. They both knew it was bad but hey, it was all in the name of normalcy.

Jumping back through the window, Peter laid down on the bed next to MJ, who immediately scrunched her nose up. 

“Have you been smoking?” She rasped, rubbing her eyes and looking up at him. 

“Uh,” Peter muttered, looking at Harry who puffed his cheeks out awkwardly and looked away. “No?”

“I’m asleep, not stupid,” She muttered, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

He wrapped her own arms around her as she buried her head into his chest. “Sorry.” 

“I get it,” Michelle shrugged, yawning. “Now go to sleep.” 

Harry was gone when Peter woke up the next morning, Michelle still in his arms. Running a hand through her hair, he studied her face, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and her hollowed-out cheeks. He frowned, running a finger over the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. 

Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he swore under his breath and sat up. Michelle peeled her eyes opened and frowned up at him, tugging on his sleeve. Peter looked back at her, running a thumb over her jaw. “I have to go, I’m late to-” 

“Sick, remember?” MJ reminded him, grabbing his wrist. 

“I guess,” He sighed, still worried that someone would find it suspicious. 

She sat up, still holding onto the wrist of his hand that was cupping her face. Leaning her forehead against his, her eyes flickered down to his lips before licking her own. Peter listened to her heart rate speed up.

“MJ, can I-” 

Michelle cut him off, pressing her lips to his, bringing her other hand to the back of his head. Peter hummed into her, kissing her softly, putting weeks of missed time behind the affection. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the spinning world. 

Peter only pulled away moments before the door opened. Harry entered the room, his pallor lacking colour and his jaw set tightly. “He knows she’s here.” 

“What?” Peter paled, standing up. 

“I don’t know how, I thought the camera’s- I thought it was fine but he knows she’s here and he wants to see her, now,” Harry gulped, avoiding eye contact with either of them as he shifted uncomfortably. 

“I can’t bring her to him,” Peter shook his head. 

“I don’t either but we have to or else he’ll kill all of us. I’d say run but he’s put all the guards out, they’ve got orders to shoot if they see people trying to run. There’s nothing I can do, Peter, I’m so sorry,” Harry’s voice cracked as he apologised profusely, unshed tears gleaming in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Michelle stood up from the bed. “We’ll tell him I came looking for Peter, it’s my fault, we’ll- I don’t know but I thought you two were good at winging it, it’s fine.” 

“MJ-” Peter blanched. 

“Peter, there’s nothing else we can do.” 

She was right, there really was no other option. So no one breathed as they left the room, Harry walking in front of Peter and MJ protectively. The air was as stiff as their limbs as they walked down the hall, Peter’s eyes never leaving Michelle. 

Harry would look back occasionally, his lips downturned and eyes watery. They were all holding their breaths and when they reached Norman’s office, no one wanted to open the door. Peter was rubbing his hands on his thighs, trying his best to control his breathing. 

Michelle glanced at him, her brows furrowed before she grabbed one of his hands and squeezed, it did nothing. Harry turned around and noticed Peter’s panicked state, he immediately placed both hands on his shoulders, whispering something to him that Michelle couldn’t hear but she knew Peter could. 

The glaze over Peter’s eyes disappeared as he looked at Harry, his breathing still jagged but stable. He squeezed Michelle’s hand again, muttering a sorry to which she gave a small smile. Harry looked between them, giving a reassuring nod before opening the door. 

Norman was sitting behind his empty desk, hands clasped in front of him. Peter felt Michelle shrink into herself and move behind Peter slightly. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, “Mr Osborn, I can explain,” 

“You know, Peter, You’re smart, there’s no denying that. It’s just too bad you won’t apply yourself properly. If you worked for me,  _ actually _ , worked for me, not pretending,” The smirk that landed on Norman’s face sent chills down Peter’s spine. “You could change the world, we could change the world.” 

Now, I know this lovely lady didn’t mean to intrude, she was just worried about a friend, just the same as you were, Peter. I’m not going to beat around the bush. You’re smart, Peter but you should know by now I’m always one step ahead,” He opened one of the desk drawers and placed a syringe on the surface. “I know you two have been working on a ‘cure,’” Norman snickered, shaking his head. “I let you two sneak out every night because I knew you’d always come back, Harry and Peter, ever inseparable, hm?” 

“You said you weren’t going to beat around the bush but you’re beating around the bush so can you cut the chase already?” Peter snapped, waving his hand that wasn’t holding Michelle’s hands and clenching his jaw tightly, glaring at Norman.

“We’ve gotta test it on someone, don’t we? I mean from the looks of things, Peter’s pretty used to mixing up all sorts of chemicals so why don’t we find out just how well he did this time.” 

All three of them went pale, the syringes in Peter’s pocket feeling rather prominent now. Norman grabbed the one on his desk and stood up, they all backed away. He rounded to the front, their backs were pressed against the wall. 

Michelle was gripping Peter’s hand immovably while her other fumbled for the handle behind her. Peter could hear her whimpering out apologises, claiming it was her fault and that she never should’ve come. Knowing that only he could hear her, he leaned in closer and told her it wasn’t her fault, that it was going to happen eventually. Catalyst’s don’t actually take part in the reaction after all. 

Three much larger men advanced towards them arms outstretched, Peter managed to leap away and duck under them but Harry and MJ didn’t have the same fortune of mutated DNA. He went to move forward and grab both of their arms but they were pulled away from him and a cold hand came slapping down on Peter’s shoulder. 

Every single day for the past three weeks that same exact hand had been in the same exact place. Peter wanted to rip it off his shoulder and crush every single finger until they looked like sticks from a fallen tree. 

“See as she so willingly came, don’t you think she’d be a good test subject?” Norman mused, letting the third bodyguard grab Peter’s arms and twist them uncomfortably until they were pinned behind his back. 

“If you lay a finger on her, I swear to god I’ll-” 

“You’ll what, web me to the wall? You’re missing the most important component for that I’m afraid,” Norman spoke cynically, nodding at Peter’s wrist and showcasing the absence of his web-shooters. He’d gotten too comfortable. 

Michelle cowered, leaning back into the man who was holding her to get away from Norman but the contact made her skin crawl. Norman flicked the syringe a couple of times and loomed over her. She tried not to let her bottom lip quiver and instead she grimaced before spitting in his face. 

Tilting his head to the side, he wiped her saliva from his cheek and hummed. “Don’t you want to be apart of the revolution, Michelle?” 

“You’re a coward,” She spat. “You can’t bear to live in a world you don’t agree with because it makes your life too difficult. Well, guess what? The world doesn’t revolve around you, asshole and it never will. No one will even remember who you are in ten years.” 

Peter tried to tug himself out of the hole he was in but the man very quickly squeezed his wrists, making him wince. Norman looked amused, turning back to Peter and shrugging. “Try that again and I’ll kill her instead.” He turned back to Michelle. “Bold words for a girl who ran all the way here in the name of love, which by the way warms my heart, it really does.” 

With one look from Norman, the man holding Michelle grabbed her forehead and pulled it backwards sharply. She clenched her jaw and gulped, trying to pull away but whimpering when she was tugged back. 

Peter jerked again, easily pulling his arm free and jumping over the foot swung to knock his legs out from under him. Lunging forward with a growl, he ripped his other arm free, throwing the man to the wall across the room. 

Norman accelerated his villainy at Peter’s display and pressed the needle to her neck. Peter heard himself yell but couldn’t recall what, blind rage and terror taking over him. Just as he grabbed Norman’s arm, he found that it was no longer MJ at the head. 

Rather, Harry had bounded across the room faster than even Peter and pushed MJ to the floor, who was now clutching the side of her head as she sat up on her elbow. Peter sighed in relief but any kind of solace he’d found vanished when he saw the metal sunk halfway into Harry’s shoulder. 

The shock had made him freeze and even though his body was screaming at him to keep going he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the puncture in his best friends flesh and all the implications that came with it. 

Taking the split second he had left, Norman pushed the plunger all the way down the barrel of the syringe. Peter could once again hear himself yelling and MJ scramble to her feet, ripping the device out of Harry. 

Harry clutched his arm, his face contorted in anguish as he looked at Peter. Peter then pushed Norman’s elbow in, the nauseating crack echoing through the eery room. He cried out and curled into himself, cradling his wounded arm. Yet he still managed to smirk at the three teenagers. 

“Harry, be useful for the first time in your life and kill them,” He sighed through gritted teeth before looking at Peter who grabbed the man's neck and pressed him against the wall. Even with his horrible wounded arm, he reached up and tried to pull Peter away, his feet dangling off the ground as the boy lifted him up. “Remember, I’m always one step ahead.” 

With that, Peter surged his arm forward, crushing both his airway and his neck at once. He let the body drop to the floor and the stampede of feet leaving the room brought him back to his senses again, his eyes no longer clouded with red. 

MJ was crouched over Harry, who Peter now saw to be collapsed on the floor, eyes trained on his father and dry heaving. The contents of his already empty stomach were next to him. Michelle was holding the needle with shaking hands, which Peter immediately took from her and threw across the room. 

“Don’t touch that and don’t put your hands near your mouth,” He ordered, dragging Harry to his feet by his shoulders. 

The taller boy stumbled as he found his balance, knees buckling slightly as his head slumped onto his shoulder. Michelle stood up too, grabbing Harry’s injured arm and staring straight at the wound, looking like she was about to empty her stomach too. 

Peter grabbed the fabric of his suit and ripped it down, exposing his skin. Both Michelle and Peter went green at the sight of his congealed, blackening veins. The infected area was slowly growing bigger and bigger yet Harry seemed to be gaining strength rather than feeling sicker. 

“Pete- Petey,” Harry croaked out, breathing raspily. 

“No, Harry, it’s okay, I’ve-I’ve got the cure, it’s fine, everything is fine,” Peter cupped the side of Harry’s face when the boy leaned against the wall, scrunching up his nose. 

“No, Pete, now you need to be one step ahead,” Harry looked at him, his eyes started to glaze over slightly. “Run.” 

Peter shook his head and dug through his pocket, pulling out the syringe that looked too similar to the other one for comfort. He pulled the cap off with his teeth, struggling to do so with his shaking hands. 

Michelle pointed to a spot nearby the original hole and Peter went to line it up but couldn’t due to the adrenaline and nerves rushing through his veins. MJ grabbed it and jabbed it into Harry’s skin, pushing the plunger down until it was empty. 

They both held their breath, cringing as Harry yelped in pain again, throwing his head against the wall violently and clenching his teeth together. The veins in his neck popped out, the black tint vibrant against his pale skin. 

Peter’s lungs felt like they were going to explode when Harry made no movements; if he’d just killed his best friend he didn’t know what he’d do. Finally, Harry gulped in a breath and Peter felt his shoulders relax. Michelle sighed in relief too, laughing slightly in sheer disbelief. 

Harry looked at both of them, blinking in a nondescript fashion before taking a deep breath. Peter watched the growing black stop for a few seconds before beginning to creep up again, in what seemed like an even faster rate. 

The Infected boy pushed himself off the wall, staring down at the two shorter bodies before him. Peter was shaking his head as Michelle gasped in despair, starting to back away. MJ tugged on Peter’s hand, begging him to move away but Peter couldn’t do anything but repeat the word no like it was going to change something. 

With one final pull, MJ managed to get Peter to stumble into a run and launch out of the room, Michelle leading the charge. She kicked the door shut behind them and in front of Harry, yelping when she saw his fist smash through the wood. 

Peter whimpered, wishing he could do anything but run but he knew Harry had a plethora of weapons on him and even as Spider-Man, all Peter had at that moment was his bare fists. 

They stumbled into the snow, gasping in breaths of the crisp midday air, their hot lungs and hearts turned to start mimicking the weather. The sound of Harry’s heavy boots hitting the wooden floors made Peter want to sick. 

Michelle could only run so fast, especially in the snow and her thin t-shirt made her muscles seize up. There was no way Peter was leaving her behind, not again, so he ran behind her, looking over his shoulder every two seconds. 

MJ hooked her foot around her ankle, sending her flying forward but Peter caught her, righting her and they kept going as if nothing had ever happened. Peter knew Harry was gaining on them, the crunch of the fallen snow under his feet getting louder with every step. 

Peter pushed Michelle forward, a signal to keep running before he stopped to face Harry. One survivor was better than none, even at the hands of his best friend. 

Thankfully, Michelle did keep running but stopped when she slithered into a gap between two houses where she was hidden but could still see exactly what was happening. Peter glanced at her quickly before taking a fighting stance reluctantly. 

He gulped when Harry unsheathed a curved dagger, the blade glinting under the bright sun. Harry charged at him, the knife poised to strike. Peter dodged the first few swipes, begging Harry to stop, to try and fight the infection, to remember who he was. 

On the fifth strike, Peter grabbed Harry’s wrist, squeezing it tight enough to hold him in place but not tight enough to break anything. He couldn’t stop the fat tear that rolled down his cheek as he shook his head and whimpered; “Harry, please, please, please, I love you. Harry- don’t, you’re stronger than this, please, Harry, please.” 

There wasn’t a single hint of recognition on Harry’s face as he yanked his arm out of Peter’s grasp and finally bringing the knife down into Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter gasped, barking in pain as Harry ripped the serrated blade out of him, attempting to pull his arm back and thrust the knife into his chest but Peter grabbed his wrist just before, the tip of the blade pressing into his skin. 

He twisted his arm to the side, the action causing Harry to drop the dagger to ground. Harry’s other hand came up to grab Peter’s neck and Peter let him, digging around in his pocket for another syringe, and uncapping it, his hands shaking even more than the first time. 

He knew it was futile but he injected it into Harry anyway, aiming for the blackest and largest vein in his neck. His vision starting to fade from the lack of oxygen when the vice around his neck unexpectedly disappeared. 

Gasping for breath, he looked up at Harry to see the boys eyes soften. Harry brought his hands up to his face, his breath hitching at the sight of blood splattered over his skin. He glanced at Peter’s shoulder and immediately let out a sob. 

“Harry-” Peter rasped, rubbing his throat. “Harry, dude, it’s ok.” 

“No, no, Peter, it’s coming back- I can’t- the formula is only partially right it doesn’t work,” Harry shook his head, his cheeks getting wetter with every tremor of his voice. “You have to kill me.” 

“No- no, Harry, I can’t do that, kill me, I’ll let you,” Peter cried, stepping towards Harry and grabbing his hands, ignoring the wetness of his own blood. 

“And MJ too after I kill you? Peter, you have to, there’s no life for me after this,” The taller boy leaned his forehead against Peter’s reaching up to cup his face. “You can fix this, you can help people if I kill you I’m killing the future. You have to kill me, it’s okay.” 

Peter’s chin quivered violently as rivers streamed down his face, dropping into the snow. He shut his eyes, letting himself cry into Harry. 

“I love you, Harry,” Peter whispered, his voice barely audible. 

“I love you too, Pete, I fucking love you.” 

With his parting words, Harry pressed his lips to Peter’s head, then his cheeks and finally, his lips. It was quick but it was enough, it said everything he wanted to say before he buried his head into Peter’s uninjured shoulder. A grunt passed through his lips and his hands slid down from Peter’s cheeks to around his neck once again, beginning to squeeze until his knuckles were white even through the blood. 

Peter sobbed, bringing his hands up to the sides of Harry’s head, twisting it to the left sharply. 

Harry’s body went limp, his hands falling from Peter’s neck and sending both of them toppling to the ground. Peter sobbed uncontrollably under Harry, the limp body jumping up and down with every heave of Peter’s chest. 

He brought his hands to his face, running them up and down his skin, painting it red before tugging at his hair and screaming. 

It took all of his strength but he managed to flip them over, Harry flopping into the snow like a rag doll, his eyes unblinking. Peter crawled onto his hands and knees, leaning as far from Harry as he could and finally throwing up, sinking down onto his elbows as he did so. 

He could hear MJ rushing over to him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Crawling back over to Harry’s body, he sat back on his knees, grabbing his shoulder in one hand and placing a hand in his hair with the other. 

Peter screamed again, shaking Harry’s shoulder and begging for him to wake up, to tell him it was a stupid prank. Michelle sunk down next to Peter, unable to look at Harry and tried to grab Peter’s arms to pull him away. 

“No!” Peter yanked himself away violently. “No, no, no, no, no.” 

“Peter,” Michelle was crying herself, gentler sobs and sniffles escaping her.

Peter continued to shout, shaking his head before he finally fell into Michelle when she pulled at his arms again. He gripped her shirt in his fists, ripping it slightly but Michelle didn’t care, the sight of Peter in so much pain tearing her heart in two just on its own. 

MJ held him in her arms as she sobbed, reminding her of when he did the same thing for her months ago now. She ran a hand through his hair soothingly, rocking them back and forth in time with his cries. 

Life had ripped Peter’s heart from his chest with her bare hands, crushing it in her fist and throwing it to the ground, stomping on it until it was nothing but mush. Yet that wasn’t enough, she toyed with it, pretending to sew it up but letting it dissolve away and fall to pieces. 

She was cruel, cynical, sadistic and didn’t seem to want to act that way to anyone except the three people covered in one's blood. Except for two of them, she kept alive to tell the tale, the other, well, Peter didn’t know if he was jealous of him or not. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen... i am so sorry, i am in physical pain rn plz don't talk to me for 3-5 working days


	9. middle of somewhere

Peter and Michelle had stayed bent over Harry for far too long and yet it felt like seconds. Once Peter had stopped sobbing enough to breathe, he pulled himself out of Michelle’s hold and grabbed his now stiff body, lifting him into his lap. 

His head lolled backwards over Peter’s arm and he adjusted his grip so that his head was supported. Peter felt like he was holding a baby but no, just his dead best friend, dead at Peter’s own hands. 

MJ reached over, wiping her eyes before gently shutting Harry’s, the action making him appear a whole lot more peaceful than he was. Peter’s breath shuddered as he ran a hand through his hair, if he tried hard enough, he could pretend Harry was just asleep. 

He could pretend that he’d just walked Harry home from a party, throwing him onto his bed and staying awake with him for almost the whole night as the drugs wore off. He could pretend that he’d helped Harry get undressed while pretending to be listening to his spiel about some girl who’d told him he had nice eyes. 

Then he’d pretend that they were sprawled out on Harry’s large, ever warm bed, their legs overlapping each other as gentle snores escaped both of them. No, they were sitting here, the snow soaking through both of their clothes, not that Harry would ever notice. Peter didn’t care, holding Harry to his chest as he shivered, ignoring the white snow stained red. 

MJ ripped open his shirt, peeking at the stab wound on his shoulder and running her finger ever so gently over the already healing injury. Peter didn’t notice. What he did notice was the unnatural angle Harry’s neck was bent in. He felt like he wanted to throw up again but he held it in, letting more tears fall instead. 

“Peter,” She sniffed, whispering as she placed a hand on his arm. “We have to go.” 

Peter shook his head, eyes never leaving Harry. 

“Peter, we can’t stay here, we can take him with us. They have more vans here right? We can take one of those.” 

“Can-can you get the box-the box of the his-the box-the box,” Peter stumbled, his voice wet and thick, shaking with every letter. Michelle nodded vigorously, running a hand down the back of his head and standing up. 

She ran back into the building, leaving Peter there in the snow, still clutching Harry to his chest. The first place she went to was their room, pulling open every drawer until she found the box. Pulling a blanket off Harry’s bed, she placed it in the middle and grabbed her and Peter’s bag, opening his up and shoving both items inside. Double-checking the web-shooters were in there, she stood up. 

MJ tried to steady her shaking hands as she gathered all of their notes. She had no idea why no one had come outside of the building yet and she honestly didn’t want to know. She wouldn’t be surprised if they’d all been brainwashed or something along those lines to do Norman’s bidding. However, she also couldn’t find it in herself to care, too concerned with getting everything Peter needed and getting out of here. 

Cautiously, she made her way back to Norman’s office, carefully picking up the syringe he’d used on Harry and placing it inside a plastic bag she’d conveniently found in one of his many drawers. She scoured to try and find anything that looked like it had something to do with whatever he’d injected into Harry but to no avail. 

She washed her hands before rushing back out of the building that she knew was full of people yet seemed to eerily empty. Across the road was a warehouse, the rolling door made it seem like the perfect place to hide a bunch of vans. Approaching the building and pressing a rather obvious button, the door rolled upwards to indeed reveal a fleet of vehicles. 

There were more than just vans. There were tanks, helicopters and large trucks lining each row of the deep warehouse, looking prepared to roll out in an orderly fashion at any given moment. The idea of that sent shivers down her spine but again, there was no time to dwell on now trivial implications. 

Opening the door to the closest van, she heaved herself in and put the bags in the backseat. Starting up the van, she drove out of the building and back to where Peter was still sitting in the snow with Harry clutched to his chest. 

She parked next to them, jumping out of the window and crouching down next to Peter quietly, trying her best not to look at Harry in fear of feeling sick or bursting into tears. Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his arm, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“Peter?” She whispered, knowing she wasn’t going to get a reaction. “We have to go, we can put Harry in the back or wherever you want.” 

He sighed shakily, gulping and nodding. Somehow, he managed to stand himself up on his weak legs, still holding Harry. Peter nodded towards the back doors of the van, MJ understood and opened them before stepping to the side and letting Peter place his friend in the back gently. 

Peter folded Harry’s arms over his chest, sniffing and stepping away. Slowly, she began to shut the doors just in case Peter didn’t want them closed just yet. He turned away, looking towards the snow and running a hand through his hair before pressing it under his nose. 

Michelle shut them, making sure the doors were locked before turning back to him and wrapping her arms around him. Peter didn’t hug back, but he leaned into her, burying his head in her neck and focusing on the hand running up and down his back. 

He took a deep breath and pulled away, getting into the passenger seat of the van, sinking into the seat and slumping against the door. Michelle climbed in, starting up the van and beginning to drive, swerving slightly as she took off. She muttered a sorry, which Peter didn’t reply to. 

Peter resented the bright sun shining down on them, the white light it brought into the van. He resented the blood on his hands and smeared across his face. It may have been his own and not Harry’s but it was his touch that got it there. He resented the healing wound on his shoulder, almost wanting to rip it back open for reasons he couldn’t even decipher. 

“I should’ve been faster,” Peter muttered, staring out the window. 

“What?” 

“I should’ve gotten to you first and gotten the-the drugs before Harry did.” 

“Peter-” 

“No, I’m supposed to have superpowers and-and- I couldn’t save May or Ben or my parents and now-now I couldn’t save Harry and it’s my fault. I should never have come here- at least he’d be alive if I didn’t come,” Peter's voice trembled, his breathing began to speed up as his hand gripped the dashboard of the van tightly, cracking the plastic. 

“That’s not true, it’s not your fault,” Michelle shook her head, voice firm. 

“I snapped his fucking neck, Michelle! I snapped May’s too. I should’ve- the cure should’ve been right, we never should’ve gone to his office, I should’ve got to you first, I could’ve locked him in a room until we figured out the cure. He-he-he could still be alive right now if I’d just-fucking did something.” 

“You did so something,” She frowned. 

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” Peter laughed cynically, nodding his head vigorously. “I snapped his neck, that’s what I did.” 

“Peter-” She croaked, tears starting to cloud her vision. 

“I’m a monster, I told you that months ago, I told you, I knew this would happen again. I murdered my Aunt and my best friend and who knows,” Peter scoffed. “I’ll probably snap your fucking neck too and for what? To save my own life? How fucking selfish can I get, I don’t even want it!” 

“Don’t say that,” MJ sniffed, wiping under her eyes with one hand, trying to stay focused on the road. “You’re not a monster, Peter.” 

“Murderer, monster, same thing,” Peter cried, swallowing and glancing at Michelle before looking back out the window. 

“Their deaths weren’t murders, you didn’t murder them. You didn’t have a choice, Peter. He was Infected, Peter. You tried to save him-” 

“I didn’t.” 

“But you tried,” She raised her voice. “You fucking tried everything you could, you wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t have a choice and you know that.” 

“I did have a choice and I chose you!” Peter yelled, a rasp to his as he lurched forward in the seat, turning to face Michelle. Her face fell, cheeks turning pale as her knuckles that gripped the steering wheel. “I didn’t- that’s not what I meant, it’s not- I just- if I didn’t then you’d be dead and Harry- he was right, he didn’t have a life after anyway. I didn’t- I just meant that at least I saved you.” 

Michelle didn’t reply. 

“Everyone-everything, I’ve cared about is gone,” Peter grit his teeth, “And-and even after eight months by myself, I’ve never been more alone than I am right now, I have nothing, I  _ am _ nothing.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” MJ whimpered after choking out a sob of her own. 

“And I can’t lose you too,” Peter replied before composing himself. “That's why I’m going to go back to New York, to fix this- I have to, for Harry. I’m going by myself because if I lose you too- I can’t- I won’t.” 

“No,” Michelle shook her head. “No, you’re not leaving again. If you’re going, I’m going. No.” 

“MJ-” 

“No!” Her voice cracked. “Peter I lost my entire family too you know, my mom, my dad, my sister, I lost everyone too. Then I found you and I clung onto you and I let go once and it was fucking hell, look where it got me, us, I’m not doing that again.” 

Peter clenched his jaw and covered his mouth with his hand. Michelle took his silence as some kind of apology yet she knew this topic was just saved for later, shoved into the filing cabinets. 

“I know- I know that you want to change things but now there's no real threat of things getting worse, I just- I think you, we should rest. You deserve a break. I want you to rest, I want to rest and I just want you to be ok before you go launching into the next thing because that’s all you’ve been doing,” Michelle’s voice was thick with desperation, her lip quivering, salty tears dripping down them. “I hate seeing you like this and I’ll stick by you until you go fucking- I don’t know- go cow tipping with Johnny and Felicia because you just fucking feel like it! I just- I wanna go skateboarding with you again.” 

“I’m so sorry I don’t want to live off scraps for the rest of my life,” Peter scoffed. “Harry told me to fix everything so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

“He’d also want to see you have fun, wouldn’t he?” 

“How would you know what he would want?” Peter growled, leaning towards her. “You didn’t even fucking know him.” 

“No, I didn’t,” She replied sternly. “But he cared about you, he wanted the best for you, he loved you and goddammit I do too! I just want you to want to do things not do them because you  _ have _ to.” 

Peter sat back in his seat, bringing a knee to his chest and leaning his forehead on it. Michelle wiped her eyes again, clearing her throat and focusing on the road. She’d propped up a map on the dashboard, vaguely following it as she drove. 

The silence was killing her, the only nose the occasional sniff from Peter and shift of his position. Even so, music didn’t feel quite right in this situation, so she stuck it out, tapping her fingers on the wheel. 

The memory of Harry and Peter’s last moments were on a constant loop inside her head. Harry kissing him, the ‘I love you’s’, whether they were platonic or not, the hug, the choking, the snapping. It was like a scene from a horror movie, two best friends struggling over the potential death of another while one of them bled out on pure white snow. 

It made her feel sick to her stomach, her empty stomach. The fact that they also had no food was something that plagued her mind, specifically Peter’s situation and his healing wound that was probably using up all his resources, not to mention, she could tell how plainly exhausted he was. 

His eyes were closed, which she supposed was a good thing. She could tell he wasn’t asleep, having picked up on his breathing patterns over the past few months. Michelle listened for the next while, waiting until he was asleep to feel like she could finally relax. 

Peter sleep for hours, Michelle pulled over after a while, her eyes starting to droop as she drove. She draped Harry’s blanket over Peter before getting out of the van, the bottle of water she’d sipped at throughout the drive hitting her. 

She didn’t stray too far from the van, knowing that if something were to happen Peter would still be able to hear her. It had been less than two minutes when she heard her name bellowed from the van. Peter was yelling for her, his voice cracking and yelping as if he was in physical pain. 

It struck her like a spear through the heart, insighting shivers of pure terror. Michelle scrambled back to the van, tripping over her undone laces and inhibited by her pants that were beginning to fall down her legs. 

Calling out his name as she surged into the vehicle, she found him sprawled across the van, tears and sweat mixing on his cheeks. Harry’s blanket had fallen into a bundle at his feet, probably due to the violent shaking of Peter’s whole body. 

The moment he saw Michelle, he reached across the seat and yanked her into his chest. She winced slightly as she hit the centre console but ignored it, instead, listening to Peter’s thundering heartbeat and wrapping her arms around him. 

As sobs wracked his body and echoed around the van, tearing Michelle’s heart in pieces with every choking noise and raspy breath. His hands were fisting her jumper tightly, tugging at it and rocking them back and forth. 

“Peter-” 

“I dreamt I killed you and-and th-then you were g-gone,” Peter tripped over his tongue, shaking his head in the crook of her neck. Pulling away, Michelle took in his red eyes and snotty nose causing her lips to turn down even further. 

“I’m right here, I promise I’m not going anywhere, I just had to go to the bathroom. I’m right here,” She whispered, cupping his face and running her fingers over his jaw. “I promise.” 

Peter nodded, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jumper before pressing his palms into his eyes. He took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through his hair before looking back at MJ. “You can go to the bathroom now, I promise I won’t freak out or anything.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded, squeezing his shoulder before getting out of the van. Peter curled into a ball, leaning his forehead on his knees while his head spun. It was nauseating and he was trying his best to block out every memory of- everything. 

Michelle got back into the van a couple of moments later, immediately running her hand up and down Peter’s back, comfort oozing out of her fingertips. 

“I understand why Harry did all the shit he did because this- this is so fucking shit,” Peter whispered, looking at Michelle. “He always talked about feeling empty and I get it now- empty is so much better than whatever this is.” 

MJ wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t say anything, just pulled Peter’s head onto her chest and ran her fingers through his hair. He was no longer crying, in fact, he was making so little noise that it was starting to scare her. 

“Peter?” 

“Yeah,” He breathed out, sniffing. 

Michelle sighed in relief. 

“I was just making sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m not but thanks for asking, I guess,” He whispered, clenching his jaw before leaning down and grabbing Harry’s blanket off the floor. “I’m gonna try to sleep.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can-can you read to me?” 

“Yeah,” She said softly, rummaging through her bag and pulling out the book she’d still carried around and opening it to the first page, even though she’d already read a few chapters in. Michelle cleared her throat, raising her voice ever so slightly. “This is We All Looked Up by Tommy Wallach” 

Peter fell into a dreamless sleep a few minutes later. 

MJ was the first of them awake the next morning, content with the fact that Peter was still asleep and didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon. Gently she moved him into his own seat so she could continue driving, wanting to get back to the community as quickly as possible. 

Four hours passed before Peter finally woke up. He blinked slowly, sighing and rubbing his eyes, He sat up and looked out the window before look at Michelle, exhaustion and confusion etched into his features.

MJ watched as all the memories from yesterday came crashing back down onto him. Whatever blissful two seconds of nothing he had when he woke up disappeared and he immediately frowned, running a hand over his face and clenching his jaw. 

“Hungry?” She asked quietly, awkwardly. 

Peter shrugged, looking out the window. 

“There’s a tin of peaches in my bag.” 

Peter didn’t react. 

“Peter, you need to eat.” 

Peter ignored her. 

“The last time you ate was like 30 hours ago, Peter, you know you need to eat.” 

“I think my metabolism has adapted,” He shrugged. 

“It’s adapted to smaller portions, not starvation, please eat.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Peter huffed but reached over to her bag, his hair that had grown out again flopping into his eyes. He blew it out of the way, taking out the peaches and a can opener. MJ focused on the road, occasionally glancing at Peter to see him hesitantly eat. 

There was a pause between every bite, he chewed awfully slowly and after every swallow, he sighed. He was staring at the tin like it was a black hole he didn’t want to be sucked into. Running his finger around the rim, he winced slightly as he nicked himself on a jagged piece of metal. 

“My life's a circle,” He said drearily. 

“What?” 

“My life is a circle. I feel like I lived it a thousand times, I’ve lived everything a thousand times and it never ends. Circle’s never end. Even though everything is different, I can’t help but feel I’ve been there and done that. I’ve killed the most important people in my life in the exact same way, I killed a random person in the exact same way, it never ends,” Peter spoke quietly, his voice timid yet affirmative all at once. He furrowed his brows, still staring into the black hole. “It never ends.” 

“That’s not true,” Michelle replied after a moment’s silence, chewing on the inside of her cheek, unsure what to say. 

“It is, I’m even having a repetition of Gwen with you. Like- the people and circumstances are different but the event is still the same.” 

“A… repetition?” 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s different, I feel different but I also don’t at the same time? I met both of you at a shit time in my life, I repress my feelings because I’m terrified and I’m also nowhere near good enough for either of you. I lost her and my life is a circle, so,” Peter’s voice cracked as he shrugged, feeling sick to his stomach as he looked at the swimming peaches. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I told you that.” 

“Circle.” 

Michelle held back her own tears, loathing the way Peter was talking about himself. She let go of the steering wheel with one hand, offering him the other. Hesitantly, he put his hand in hers, his body relaxing as she squeezed his hand. 

“I’ll always circle back to you,” MJ whispered, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. 

Peter kissed the back of her hand before leaning his cheek into it, a small smile on his face. 

They drove the rest of the way in relative silence. Peter put on music at one point, letting it play quietly in the background. His hand stayed intertwined with Michelle’s the whole time, even when their palms turned clammy. 

He stayed wrapped in Harry’s blanket, enveloping himself in the smell of him and playing a slideshow of memories. Now that he was gone, really gone, Peter realised just how special Harry was to him, just how much of their lives they really shared. For the best part of a decade, they’d hardly spent more than a day apart. Whatever Peter went through, so did Harry. Whatever Harry went through, so did Peter. 

_ 10 months Pre-Calamity  _

Harry skipped class a lot, half the time Peter came with, the other half Peter was too concerned about his attendance dropping below 90%. It wasn’t like Peter need to go to class anyway, he knew the content but he was there on a scholarship, he couldn’t risk losing it because of low attendance. 

However, when Harry offered an out to Peter’s English call, he wasn’t about to turn it down. So when the bell rang at the end of lunch, instead of going to class, they headed out of the cafeteria to the field. Harry led them under the bleachers. 

“There are no gym classes this period,” He reassured Peter when he voiced his concerns about being caught. “Norman was talking about my Mom this morning.” 

Peter leaned against the scaffolding of the bleachers, dumping his bag at his feet and looking up at Harry. 

“Saying that she was a good for nothing whore, called her a junkie, said he only married her because she got pregnant with me,” Harry scoffed, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “As if he wasn’t the one who fucking knocked her up, then he turns around and blames me for her death because I apparently caused her so much stress or some bullshit. No Norman, you beat her up every two fucking days but sure, blame me.” 

“I hate Norman more and more every day,” Peter hummed, knowing Harry just needed to get everything off his chest rather than receive any kind of pity. 

Rather than pulling out a cigarette, he pulled out rolling papers and filters, the rather large bag of weed following. The packet didn’t even have a single cigarette. Peter furrowed his brows, pushing himself off the scaffolding. 

“Dude-” 

“Not now, Pete.” 

“You can’t do this here, you know how obvious it is when you smoke,” Peter grabbed the bag, much to Harry’s distaste. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just have like half, not even. By the time it’s next period I’ll be sober enough,” he retorted, reaching for the bag that Peter moved away from him. “Dude.” 

“Smoke a cig or something, for now, I don’t know. I’ll come to yours or you to mine after school, I don’t care and you can smoke then but not now.” 

“Peter, I really don’t want to be sober right now it’s either weed or I take some pills, you decide,” Harry furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at Peter and clenching his jaw. 

“Don’t even try that shit with me,” Peter scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, burying the bag in his elbow. 

“Fine,” Harry sighed, taking out a cigarette and lighting that instead. 

Peter stood back and watched, taking a drag when Harry offered it but coughing and giving it straight back. With a sigh, Harry stood on the butt and leaned his head on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter leaned into Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and running his hand through his curls. “I’m sorry all this shit happens to you, Harry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I miss her.”

“I know, I miss her too,” Peter sighed, thinking about the fading memories of Harry’s mom. 

They stood under the bleachers for the rest of the period, Harry smoking another cigarette before they made their way out, Peter shoving the baggie into his pocket. He turned to Harry, about to ask him how he was feeling when a throat was cleared from the other side of them. 

Both the boys whirled around to see Coach Wilson standing stoically with raised brows and folded arms. Peter gulped, quickly pulling his hand out of his pocket and folding his arms, glancing at Harry who seemed unphased. 

“Parker, care to empty your pockets?” 

“Uh,” Peter winced. “No?” 

The Coach tilted his head to the side, laughing slightly. “Alright, I guess you can do it in Morita’s office, both of you.” 

Norman hadn’t picked up his phone when the Principal had called but May did. She didn’t sound upset, rather worried about the two. Morita called Norman multiple times, each ending up in voicemail. With every call, Harry sunk further and further into his chair, a frown etching deeper and deeper into his face. 

When May arrived, looking rather flustered and concerned, she sat in the chair in between Harry and Peter, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

Morita placed the baggie that Peter had handed over on the desk. May furrowed her brows, looking between the drugs and Peter, who was chewing on the inside of his cheek and staring at his shaking leg. 

“Coach Wilson found Peter and Harry walking out from under the bleachers, after skipping their classes and Peter was putting this into his pocket,” Their principal sighed, gesturing to the weed on his desk. “Peter says that it’s his and that Harry convinced him not to get high on school grounds. However, Harry says that Peter is lying and it’s actually the other way around.” 

“It’s mine,” Peter spoke up. “You literally found it on me, what more proof do you need.” 

“Well- Mr Parker, your track record would disagree with what you’ve told me and Mr Osborn’s record would seem to favour the fact that the drugs belonged to him, so I’m more inclined to believe him-” 

“Since when was circumstantial evidence favoured over physical evidence. I’m admitting to it and Coach Wilson saw, Harry is lying because he doesn’t want me to get in trouble as you said, my record is quite clean and he knows it’s important so he’s lying.” 

“Peter, you understand that I’ll have to search your locker and bag, suspend you and I’ll have to turn you into the police,” Morita furrowed his brows, looking between all three of them. 

“I understand,” Peter nodded. 

May’s hand had left Peter’s shoulder and Peter could care less about the drugs, just the fact that she could tell May was disappointed in him. It may have been over something that wasn’t even true and he would explain that later, she would understand but it still wasn’t a good feeling. 

Peter spaced out for the rest of the meeting, letting May and Morita talk over official things he could care less about. They searched his locker and bag, finding themselves empty-handed. If they’d have searched Harry’s, they would’ve pulled up with more than just another bag of weed. 

Both Peter and Harry were sent home with May, her having been put down as one of Harry’s emergency contacts awhile ago, not that Norman had any knowledge of that. The car ride was silent until Harry piped up from the backseat of May’s car. 

“May, Peter was lying, it was mine. Peter lied because he’s an idiot,” Harry scoffed, kicking the back of Peter’s chair. 

“I lied because you would’ve been expelled, Harry,” Peter scowled, narrowing his eyes. 

“And Norman would’ve fixed it so you got suspended and you got a misdemeanour for literally no reason.” 

“I did it for you,” Peter furrowed his brows. 

“You didn’t have to Peter, that’s what I’m saying!” Harry’s voice finally raised into a yell, which caused May to break her silence with a yell of her own. 

“I love both of you like sons and I would do anything for either of you, now cut the shit. Listen, I know you two think I have no idea what you get up to but I do. It would be hypocritical of me to get upset considering the shit I used to get up to when I was your age but I always knew you guys were safe, I trusted you two. God, do you really think I don’t know what weed smells like? As I said, I don’t care if you smoke weed, I do care if it’s at school and you get caught. People don’t just get high at school for no damn reason so I’m a lot more worried than I am upset,” May started off angry, her voice loud and brunt but it turned soft, a small sniffle coming at the end. “Peter, I’m upset you’ve been suspended and all the other shit you landed yourself in but I understand why you did it. Harry, I’m not upset and I don’t blame you, I’m just worried about you. Do we need to go to yours so you can pack a bag and stay with us for a few days?” 

Harry stayed at May and Peter’s apartment for the next week, bringing back all of Peter’s missed schoolwork each day. Of course, he felt bad, he felt like shit for getting Peter suspended and being the reason  _ Spider-Man  _ now had a criminal record. 

However, Peter assured him every single day that it was fine. After all, they had each other’s backs and they always would. 

_ 13 months Post-Calamity  _

As Peter stumbled out of the van when they arrived back in the community, he couldn’t bring himself to look at everyone’s expectant faces and watch them turn dark. He couldn’t blame them, after getting a glimpse of his matted hair and blood stained coat in the rearview mirror, he could understand the terrified look on their faces. 

Peggy approached him first, placing her hands on his shoulders comfortingly. MJ rounded the front of the van, coming up to stand between Peggy and Peter. Peggy looked at Michelle questioningly, to which Michelle bit her bottom lip and avoided eye contact. 

“Harry uh, Harry’s dead,” Michelle clenched her jaw and lowered her voice. Peggy was understandably shocked, looking between Michelle and a teary-eyed Peter. “There was- something happened. He’s- his body is in the back. Do you think there’s a casket laying around or something? I don’t know.” 

“I’m afraid that’s very unlikely,” Peggy muttered, giving a sad smile. 

“Well, can-can we take him out of the van? I-I don’t like him being in there. Is there an-an empty room or-or something,” Peter stuttered, heading towards the back of the van. “I want him to be-to be comfortable.” 

“Yes, of course, there’s plenty of spares. Do you want to-” 

Before Peggy could offer to grab a sheet to cover him up before he was moved, Peter had already opened up the back of the van. His knees began to tremble, looking at Harry’s body for the first time in hours made him choke. 

He buried his face in his elbow and held in his sobs. Felicia came up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Seemingly unphased by the sight of Harry’s crooked and bruised neck, she rubbed Peter’s back soothingly before patting it gently. 

“I’ll come with you,” She offered, looking between Peter and Harry. “I can help carry him if you want.” 

“It’s fine,” Peter shook his head, taking a deep breath before bending down and picking up the heavy body. 

Ignoring the gasps of the now large crowd, Peter carried Harry into a spare bedroom he was led to by Peggy, followed by MJ and Felicia. He was given a sheet and told that a grave had begun to be dug under the large Oak tree in the middle of the quad. 

Felicia left soon after Peggy, covering Harry in the sheet and squeezing Peter’s shoulder before leaving. MJ stayed in the room with Peter, running a hand through his hair and cringing at the sweat matting it together. 

“I think it’s time for a bath,” She tilted her head, letting her hand trail down his arm and to his hand, tugging gently. “C’mon.” 

With a final look at Harry’s covered body, he nodded, looking at MJ who smiled reassuringly. She wiped the tears on his cheek away with the pad of her thumb, stroking his face slightly. Peter closed his eyes, leaning into her hand and taking a deep breath before leaving on his own conscience. He never let go of her hand as they walked to their own room. 

MJ opened the door, peering inside before stepping in cautiously, as if it were a foreign land. Peter did the same, glancing at the bedside table where the letter he left her sat, crumpled and uncrumpled so many times it was almost unreadable. 

She kicked off her shoes, encouraging him to do the same before taking the white lab coat off him. Wincing at the large stain in his grey hoodie, she had to remind herself that he was perfectly fine, that the skin would probably look like nothing had ever happened. 

He managed to undress while MJ ran the bath, finally looking at himself properly in the mirror for the first time in a very long time. If he was honest, he hadn’t really looked at himself since before the Calamity. 

Running his hands along the valley of his cheeks and the line of the jaw, he scrunched his nose up. He could already see May ordering mountains of pizza just for him after telling him he looked like he was starving. 

When he turned to the side, the cave that was now his torso caused his lungs to halt. Even though his body was skinnier than anyone he’d ever seen before, his super-human body had decided that his muscles were an important thing to keep. This gave him a creepy, ghoul-on-steroids-like appearance. He hated it. 

He noticed MJ approaching him in the corner of the mirror and turned to look at her, forcing a painful smile. She gave one back, nodding towards the bathroom. “Do you want me to-” 

“Stay,” Peter nodded. “Please.” 

“Of course,” Michelle grabbed his hand, running her thumb over his knuckles. 

So while Peter got into the bath, MJ dragged a chair over to sit next to him. She dipped a cloth into the water before bringing it up to his face, wiping the blood splatters of it. Peter sighed at the warmth, his body relaxing and eyes fluttering shut. 

“I think um, I think it’s gonna take a couple of days for Harry’s grave to be dug. The ground is frozen and all they have is shovels so you know- they’re trying their best,” Michelle spoke gently, cleaning his shoulder. 

“I can help- super strength, you know,” Peter shrugged, glancing at her. 

“Whatever you want, just get some rest first.” 

Peter nodded.

He was in the bath for what felt like hours, relishing in the warmth of the water and Michelle’s touch. When he finally peeled his eyes open after MJ pulled her hands away, the colour of the water made him cringe, hating the fact that that had all seeped from his pores. 

She helped him out, handing him a towel to wrap around himself. As MJ rubbed his shoulders gently Peter leaned into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, apologising for his wet hair. Michelle ignored it, wrapping her arms around his body. 

“How are you feeling?” Michelle whispered, rubbing his back. 

“I’m ok, just- I’d do anything to have him back. I-I- I’m feeling okay though, I mean, I already thought he was dead before but I-I-I-” Peter sighed, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m okay.” 

Michelle nodded, squeezing him slightly before pulling out of the embrace. She opened the bathroom door, walking into the room and handing him some fresh clothes. He thanked her, getting dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at some loose threads. 

“Feels weird being back here,” He hummed, looking up at her with his red eyes. 

“Yeah,” She mused, running a wet cloth over her own face. “They got the air conditioning working while you were gone though.” 

Peter furrowed his brows before realising how not cold he was currently feeling. He’d gotten so used to being perpetually freezing that he’d forgotten what it was like to be- normal again. He could sit around in a t-shirt again without immediately needing to put three more layers on. 

He nodded, flopping sideways onto the bed and sighing in relief when his head made contact with the pillow. Michelle picked his legs up and moved them onto the bed, a small smile gracing Peter’s face as he peered through his lashes. 

Lunging forward and grabbing her waist, he pulled her onto the bed with him, emitting a squeal of shock from her. He smiled wider burying his head into her neck, to which MJ responded too by relaxing into his body. 

“I missed you,” He muttered, sending vibrations through her spine. 

“I missed you too, I went kind of crazy without you.” 

“Are you mad at me?” He whispered, his voice tortured with guilt. 

“I was,” She replied tremulously. “But I understood. It was more the timing that upset me and I was scared you would never come back. My concern was stronger than my anger.” 

“I’ll always circle back to you,” Peter gulped, pulling his head out of her neck and resting his forehead on hers, noticing the way sheen over her eyes. 

She smiled tightly, cheeks turning red from the proximity of their faces. Peter cupped her jaw with his hand, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it slowly. His other hand tugged gently at one of her curls before he brought his lips to hers, kissing her for the second time. 

MJ kissed back nervously, her heart fluttering his her chest as his thumb stroked her cheek gently. She placed a hand on his hip, twisting his shirt between her fingers. Peter pulled her in closer, tilting her chin upwards into him before deepening the kiss. 

Her hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, allowing herself to fall into him. Peter hummed, sighing into her before tugging her bottom lip with his teeth. Michelle pulled away to catch her breath, leaving Peter to press his lips to her jaw. 

“Peter, I think-” MJ began but stopped herself, looking away from him and licking her lips. “Nevermind.” 

Peter pulled away from her and thumbed her lip, furrowing his brows. “You can tell me anything.” 

“No, it’s just- I don’t think you’ll agree with me, it’s dumb don’t worry,” She shook her head, glancing at him quickly and fiddling with the hair at the back of his neck. 

“I agree with everything you say,” Peter shrugged. 

“That’s so not true but whatever helps you sleep at night,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Anyway, I um, I think that I- I think I love you.” 

“I know I love you,” Peter replied without hesitation, making MJ’s wary eyes snap up to his and widen dramatically. 

“Really?” She whispered, voice cracking slightly. 

“Yeah,” He smiled. “I think I’ve known for ages, I mean, how could I not love you? You’re amazing.” 

“And you’re the cheesiest person I’ve literally ever met,” Michelle laughed, shoving his chest gently. 

“You didn’t meet Harry properly,” Peter replied, his smile turning sad but eyes remaining nostalgic. 

“Did you love him?” Michelle asked, coming to stand next to Peter as he stared at the fresh mound of soil under the oak tree. 

“I did,” he replied, licking his lips and scuffing his shoe around in the snow. “But I didn’t- I don’t know, I didn’t realise until the day before the Calamity.” 

“I’m sorry,” She bit the inside of her cheek. 

“It’s ok, I didn’t even know I liked guys in that way but I guess because it was Harry it was different. Doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t know what I am but I’m not too phased by it,” Peter shrugged, looking at MJ. “Besides, I love you.” 

She intertwined her hand with his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He smiled gently, wrapping his arm around her waist instead, pressing a kiss to her cheek and resting his head on her arm. 

“You miss him, huh?” MJ asked tenderly. 

“Yeah, don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him but it’s ok,” His spare hand grabbed the chain around his neck, where a third ring had been added, one of Harry’s. “Ben always used to say that Harry was like a daisy, they’re actually weeds but they’re so pretty you don’t know or care so you let them stay.” 

Michelle laughed slightly before smiling and leaning further into Peter. “I’m glad you’re so- sanguine about everything.” 

“MJ, the only book’s I’ve read are the ones you gave to me, I don’t know what that word means but it sounds like a good thing. I’ll take it.” 

“It is a good thing,” She smiled, kissing the side of his head before peppering small kisses along his jaw. 

Peter looked up at her before looking back down at Harry’s grave, thinking about the headstone he was going to make for him. There were too many words to say about Harry, one couldn’t simply shorten it to a single sentence. Harry was everything and more to Peter and he always would be. 

They used to always tell each other that they couldn’t imagine life without the other but here he was, living it and it sucked. It was hard. Peter hated it. 

But he was here with MJ, here with Johnny, Ned, Felicia and Liz and that’s what he really needed right now. However much he missed Harry, Gwen and even Miles, he’d come to accept his life now. He’d come to accept how he lived now but that didn’t mean he was happy with it. 

There were still things to put right. Even if Norman was dead, things hadn’t changed and unless Peter did something, they never would. He couldn’t sit back and watch the world pass him by so he’d have to dive headfirst into it. 

He just didn’t know what he was going to tell MJ. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry i made you wait like 5 weeks for this actual piece of shit but i hope you enjoyed it anyway um sorry im very busy trying to finish high school ok thanks   
> oh and also, people ask me so i'll tell you: i see Harry as Benjamin Wadsworth ala Deadly Class.

**Author's Note:**

> I read one post-apocalyptic ( Fallout by Fargone5 - do read it ) petermj fic and got obsessed so here we are. I'm excited and I'm officially returning to the petermj party after taking a break in spidercat land. 
> 
> this first chapter is a lil short but i didn't wanna make it long for the sake of being long ok see ya 
> 
> twitter; rueshewitt


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